Getting a Life
by sam938
Summary: Sam decides to get a life; Jack decides to help, quietly, but they have a lot to learn about each other and it’s October anyway; the ghosts and goblins are hanging around in Colorado.End of season 2. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Getting a Life

Author: Sam938

Rating: PG 13

Summary: Sam decides to get a life; Jack decides to help, quietly, but they have a lot to learn about each other and it's October anyway; the ghosts and goblins are hanging around in Colorado.

Spoilers: Early into the series; way before season 4.

Archive: please ask.

Disclaimers: Don't own them, didn't create them, and this is purely for fun and not profit.

Status: Working on it.

Feedback: I'd very much appreciate it!

A/N. This story currently has 20 chapters written. It's not yet done. I'm trying.

1.

Sam Carter sat in her Volvo and stared out at the gold, roses and purples streaks of the early autumn Colorado sunset, the sky blazing, watching as the light finally faded behind the house into dusk. God, the view was beautiful; all of it. Even so, she knew the idea that had been forming in her head over the last few weeks was completely, totally and utterly nuts. Crazed; insane; ridiculous. And yet.. jeez.. it would be a lot of fun. And the Colonel had ordered her to "get a life" after all.

Huh. Like she didn't have one.

Well, maybe she should backtrack on that.

Besides, she wasn't sure that thinking about buying a house actually qualified as "getting a life." But who knew; she sure didn't. "Getting a life" had never really been her strong suit.

Damn the man anyway. He seemed to know exactly which buttons to press to annoy her, and consequently, whether he'd intended it or not, she was sitting on a hill, looking out at what was logically a complete wreck of a place, and contemplating putting her hard earned funds into said death trap, which was about the sum total of what she could afford in the Colorado real estate market. Even if the view was literally something to die for.

Saving the world just didn't translate into fortunes, unfortunately. She grinned, amused at the thought.

OK, enough of the Colonel and his meanderings, not to mention his puns. She was not, absolutely not, going to let his irreverent, throw off comments affect her decisions about something as serious as putting her life savings into a questionable proposition of real estate. Not a chance. Not a chance in hell.

But there was just something about the place…huh.

She got out the car and walked the property once again, like she'd done every night after she'd left the base for the last two weeks after she'd seen it for the first time.

Ok, so …it was a house. Just a house. No need to get all that excited about anything. It was just … bricks and stone and mortar and probably had horrific… no, definitely had horrific, seeing as she'd already checked, electrical wiring that was no where near code, plumbing that wasn't, and an interior that screamed late 70s, as in avocado green, orange and purples for gods sake. The appliances were beyond old; a good number of the windows were busted and planked over; the grounds were a disaster, no one had looked after them for years. Hell, no one had really LIVED in the house for years. There'd been some evidently shaky renters; probably drug dealers, considering.

And yet, she loved it. She looked it over again, trying to get past the problems and figure out just WHY she was so attracted to the place. It had really good bones; a well built brick Victorian with a history from the early days in Colorado Springs, when the prospectors were front and center. It also had a bit of land around the place, which was probably what she would be paying for if she were willing to ante up to the price. The probability was that the seller expected that it would be a teardown. Someone would come in and just bull doze the place --and that was something she just wasn't willing to tolerate.

The building just called to her -- crazy but true. It needed an owner, she needed a home and somehow it all seemed right. She could fix up the place or hire someone who could. The Colonel was right. She needed to "get a life" and bringing back this house was as good as it got.

So, the hell with it. She was going to go for it, but bid 50,000 under and see what happened. It'd been on the market for well over three years. Couldn't hurt to try.

That decided, she raised an imaginary glass of champagne in congratulations of her decision.

Huh. Now all she needed to do was find out if the Colonel was going to object to her living about a block and ½ away from him. Oh yeah, that was going to be an interesting conversation. But hey, she could stay out of his way. It was his problem, after all. He'd started the whole thing. Let him deal.

TBC..


	2. Chapter 2

Part 2

"So, they caved on the price and I bought it. I sign the papers tomorrow."

"Hey, kids. What's up?" Jack O'Neill settled down next to Daniel in a chair at the table informally recognized as SG1's in the cafeteria of the SGC, putting his tray in front of him and immediately digging in.

"Jack. 'Morning'." Daniel looked up from his breakfast, and back down again. "Do you think these really are eggs?"

The Colonel looked down curiously at Daniel's plate and shrugged. "Said so on the menu, but you never know. Personally, I think the oatmeal's a safer bet." He gestured with his fork at his meal and then took a bite. "Yeah, definitely safer. So, what's up? Looked like you were in some sort of serious discussion."

Daniel looked down at his meal suspiciously, finally pushing it away. "Sam bought a house."

"Really." The Colonel grinned. "Congratulations, Carter. Nice to know you actually have a place off base that you can dump your stuff. Even if you don't live there."

She bristled, annoyed at his assumption that she wasn't going to follow through and actually live in her house. Considering that he had started the whole business of her "getting a life" and consequently her buying a house, uhh, even if he didn't know it, precisely, he still shouldn't assume… yeah. Anyway.

"I do intend to live there. I like it; I bought it; it's mine." When the Colonel looked up at her, somewhat surprised by her tone, she added, for emphasis, "It's a great house."

"Uhuh, I'm sure it is. Whatever you say, Carter." He looked up from his oatmeal, staring suspiciously at Daniel.

"Hey. I did not do a thing. Nothing. Totally innocent here. I haven't even seen the house. But Sam says you have. "

"Excuse me? **I've** seen her house? I don't think so."

Sam reacted. "I -- jeez, Daniel."

Oh yeah, that was articulate. She rubbed the bridge of her nose, trying to regroup. It wasn't actually Daniel's fault that he'd dropped the bomb she'd been carefully trying to avoid mentioning to the Colonel concerning the fact that she was now literally… well, almost literally, living in his back yard. She hadn't mentioned to Daniel not to mention her latest start to the Colonel.

She sighed, remembering all the carefully -- ok, maybe not finalized -- but nearly-there ideas she'd had to make the idea more palatable to her CO and consigned them to the dustbin of "what ifs" that littered her life.

"Carter?"

She shrugged. "You have seen it, but I didn't mention it because, to be honest, I never expected the deal to go through. I bought the Victorian on 19th by your place; the one when we were picking up beer for your party for the SGC last month you pointed out when we drove by. The one you called the 'wicked witch of the west'. That one. So, actually, you have seen it. Sort of. "

The Colonel looked at her, cocking his head, and then back down at his breakfast. "You do know that it's avocado, orange and purple inside and the electrical system is shot to hell."

"Yes, of course I do. I bought it. "

He looked up from his oatmeal, smiling. "Good choice, Carter."

Huh, well who knew what that meant. He was the Colonel, after all, and so indecipherable at best, but at least he didn't seem to be objecting to the idea that she moving into his neighborhood, not that he actually had any control over it. Where she chose to live was one of the few things the Air Force didn't control right now about her life and -- whoah. She liked being in the Air Force, so where did that thought come from? Time to get a grip, obviously.

"Like your style, Carter, and your courage."

"Sir?"

He grinned. "Well, you also must know that it's haunted. Had that reputation for years. That's why it hasn't sold before now."

He paused for effect and then continued, gesturing with his fork. "Ghosts, Goa'ulds, goblins and yucky stuff after it gets dark. Lots of fun; especially after midnight, when the goblins awake, as every really informed person knows is true. You can count me in for help. I've always wanted to meet a goblin."

She raised her eyes, and grimaced, acknowledging his tacit acceptance of the location of her new house by his house through what were really bad jokes.

"Thanks, sir. I promise that if I need some help with goblin gutting I'll be sure to ask."

"No problem, Carter. Just let me know."

She sighed and then thought again about the conversation. "How did you know it was purple, avocado green, and orange inside and needed a complete electrical overall?"

He grinned. "Considered buying it myself after Abydos. Those ghosts you have in residence were just too scary."

"Cute, sir."

He smiled. "I aim to please."

Yeah, right. Sure he did.

TBC…


	3. Chapter 3

3.

Three weeks later, she sat in her really god awful purple living room with great bones (as she reminded herself yet again), surrounded by boxes, stunned at how easy all of the preparation had been. She'd predicted six months before she could move in, which just went to show how wrong you could actually be about getting up energy to meet deadlines when under pressure.

But in the end it had all been fun. She'd dreaded getting the wiring and plumbing up to code and figuring out who to hire for the job, seeing as she didn't have enough time to do it herself and she couldn't exactly ask the electrical engineers she worked with to help. She had asked them for some advice about "who in town knew what", but they stared at her pretty strangely. She understood the problem. They couldn't imagine not doing it themselves. Huh. Put them on SG1 and let them see if they had time to rewire an 1880 house into 220 code.

So, it had been looking pretty grim, and then out of nowhere the Colonel had casually mentioned that Harrison on SG6 had just redone his place. It had been an odd comment, seeing as she didn't think the Colonel spent much time with members of the SGC, and certainly wasn't interested in houses. But she'd been desperate; so she followed it up.

The recommendation had been golden. Harrison had introduced her to Griff, who had to be literally a gift from whatever gods there were. A hacker turned electrician to make a legal living, they'd hit it off from the start. A scrawny, black haired geek who barely looked legal, Griff was one of the more amazing minds she'd run into. They'd connected immediately, and he seemed to know exactly what she had in mind for 'enhancements' to the electrical system. He let his team of what looked like 16 year olds do the boring wiring, and she and Griff had played with the rest. The result of which was that she had what, even for her, was state of the art access into systems. As good as it got and that was saying something. She should probably recruit him for the SGC.

She thought back on some conversations, remembering. She'd been staring at one of her servers, trying to make some impossible connections, while he was working on the other one, doing the same. He may have been hired to wire the house, but that term had been loosely applied, once she'd realized his skills.

"Griff?"

"Yeah."

So, your first name Fagin?"

He didn't even bother to look up from her second terminal. "I'm really not into Dickens. They're all over 18. Legit."

She grinned. "So, no hacking on the side."

Griff looked up and smiled at that. "Nope."

"I can think of this great little government job that you might like."

He grinned, looking back at the terminal. "Not a chance. And owning and running the electrical company is just a sideline. I'm pulling in over 4 mil annual, personal, not counting the company or the assets from the other subsidiaries each year. I don't think the government can counter that."

And then, unusual for him, he stopped typing code, and looked at her seriously. " Sam, I don't know what Harrison told you, but I don't normally do renovations, even if I am named as the head honcho on this outfit."

When she stopped working and looked up, surprised, he shrugged, and clarified the comment. "The company I started five years ago does do residential upgrades, and Samuels is great as a unit boss, but I normally don't get involved in what's usually standard stuff. I only look into things that are unusual or might be fun. Truth is, I've been doing a lot of corporate work lately. Security issues; most of it not nearly as interesting as this has been, but still, it has it moments."

She stared back, surprised and yet not, given his skills, and then gestured at the work they'd been doing for the last two weeks. "So, why me? And, I -- uhh."

She panicked, suddenly realizing that perhaps she'd been too enthusiastic with renovating the house, and perhaps had overlooked some fine points she couldn't afford to forget. As in, what might be fun for her personally was work she was probably paying Griff to do professionally and he was most likely on her time clock. She thought back over the contracts she'd signed, not remembering the specifics, and whether or not his current actions could break her financially.

Griff seemed to read her mind. "Sam, I'm not charging you corporate rates for my personal involvement in your job; in fact, I didn't contract for me to be on the job at all. It was my choice. I'm here for fun. My involvement in your upgrade is not going to break the bank for either of us. I wanted to do it. And as for the answer to your question about 'why you', well, that's just a 'need to know', as you military types say, right?" He looked incredibly pleased with himself that he'd remembered the phrase.

She sighed, used to his slightly warped humor by now. "Damn it, Griff."

He smiled, mimicking her. "Damn it, Sam."

She tried glaring. "I'm serious."

He seemed to recognize her panic and her worry and just shook his head, shrugging. "Alright, I'll explain, but this is on your head, not mine. I will deny all knowledge and that there was any communication."

Sam continued to glare. It was a technique she'd learned from the Colonel. Usually, she couldn't pull it off, but this time she really was worried. And this time, it worked. Sort of.

He finally caved, laughing. "OK, OK, I'll talk. But I swear that **Jack **will have my ass if you let him know I told you this, and to be blunt, Sam, he's a lot scarier than you are, so if you can't keep your … thoughts to yourself, you better say so now."

"The **Colonel** asked you to get involved in my renovation?" She couldn't keep the incredulity out of her voice. When had the Colonel met Griff and how?

He raised his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders. "Whatever, Sam. Sure, if you want to call him that, that's your issue."

He stared at her. "Are we permanently off the record or not?"

"I-- oh jeez. Yeah. Okay. But this had better be good. I want the whole story."

He smiled and shrugged. "Okay, then. Yes, Jack did ask me to look into your renovations. It was one of his typically casual requests seeing as that's how he is, but also an unusual one, so the bottom line is that yes, he asked me to get involved. Said you would want some 'interesting additions', and promised me it would be fun. He was right; I've enjoyed this."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"I-- jeez."

He looked over at her, blinking and then sighed. "Sam, from what I know you're a part of his team. He likes you. He wanted to help. Quietly. And, as I've mentioned before, if you tell him I told you this, I honestly will hijack your servers."

She was seriously ready to object, but the look on Griff's face made it clear that he meant what he said; and Griff was good. Really, really good.

"Agreed. I promised I'd shut up, I'll shut up."

"Thanks." He grimaced, and finally continued. " Why me? Probably because I've known Jack for over ten years and I am pretty decent at this stuff, at least it seems so." He smiled shrugging off his success. "Anyway, Jack's been involved in community youth groups when he's in Colorado and not on missions for a long time; how long I honestly don't know. But at least the last ten years, which is as long as I've known him. I got to know him the first time I was picked up for …whatever. I think it was a break in. Anyway, he and Kazinski are good friends. They still play poker together."

"Who's Kazinski?"

He groaned. "The Colorado Springs Police Chief, Sam. He's held the job for close on twenty years." He paused. "**When** did you get here?"

"Two years ago."

"Ah. So maybe you don't know the players." He looked down at his terminal, and then up again, as if making some decisions about what to say. Sam felt as if she ought to know things that she didn't. As if, somehow, she'd missed the boat somewhere, but Griff just finally smiled to himself and acted like everything was fine.

"Anyway, I was in serious trouble with Kazinski in my early days; no need to go into why. It's history. And Jack was hanging around then, community groups and all, and decided to get involved in my case. Did what one might call an 'intervention', depending on who's talking."

He grinned. "Personally, I wouldn't call it that, although some might. Anyway, the upshot was that he convinced me that the 'straight and narrow' might possibly be more lucrative than the hacker-, and in my case, drugged-out life style. Anyway, with his help, I got started in some private business enterprises, and that's all worked out fine. So, when Jack mentioned you and your unique…uhh…. situation with the renovation, I wanted to help. Personally."

She really didn't know what to say about that.

"Thanks, Griff. I do appreciate the help."

"You're welcome." He shrugged, and then looked back at her questioningly. "And I'm free and clear with Jack, right? We never had this conversation."

"Don't know what you're talking about, Griff. What conversation?"

He smiled. "Exactly."

She couldn't quite take it all in; the Colonel being involved with all sorts of things she'd never thought of him being engaged in, including helping her get started in her house, although thinking about that she shouldn't be surprised. But she was.

She gave up wondering and instead enjoyed the moment. Her laptop was humming, the data in front of her spilling out in exactly the way she'd always dreamed it would do in a home office. It was amazing; fabulous, just damned great.

She smiled, and decided to go with the flow.

"Griff?"

"Yeah." His hands were flying across the keyboard again; he'd seemingly forgotten anything they'd talked about.

"You know any good plumbers? Because as great as this set up is, and if you've been free help, I might just be able to afford the upgrades to the basics of life. "

"I've already got Samuels on it. He's pulling the Jefferson crew in tomorrow."

She stopped typing. "You what?"

"Samuels said that Jefferson and Co. is the best there is in terms of plumbing, so I authorized the upgrades you need. But I have to tell you, Sam, that I think they're going to recommend a complete overhaul. You can decide what all you want done once you see the prospectus, but they are the best, and you might as well do it all now as later. They're set up to come tomorrow to present the final proposal, after you're done at the Mountain, probably around seven. I talked to a Walter-someone and he said that barring any serious disasters you were sure to be done by then. Anyway, whatever work you authorize will start on Monday."

"Uh... thanks." She looked up, stunned, and decided to ask the obvious. He was a hacker; well, former-hacker; he'd probably know. No need to check her accounts personally. "Am I going to be able to afford this?"

Griff grinned. "Of course. I checked your statement with Chase before I authorized the work. You're free and clear for it. But I also told Samuels to make sure that the deal was under contractor discounts." He smiled. "And, by the way, you've officially become a part time employee of Griff Electric. Don't worry; the government won't care. You're only at 2 advisory; but it's enough to get you the contractor discount."

"Uhh… thanks, I think. " To be honest, she didn't know what to say. "Into general contracting these days, then?" It was the best she could do, without either hugging him or killing him for his presumption.

"Not at all. Just wanted to make sure that you could move in on October 1 as scheduled. Jack did mention that as a target date."

She swallowed. "**Jack** set an October 1 date? Nice."

She couldn't keep the sarcasm out of her voice, no matter how hard she tried. Besides, maybe **that** kind of presumption, as in setting a target without consulting her for when she was moving into her own house, was worth killing someone for-- just not Griff. Nope, not Griff. It was the Colonel who had a lot to answer for. Seriously. But, she'd just promised Griff she wouldn't tell the Colonel about what she knew.

Ah, hell. Damn the man anyway.

Griff looked up and cocked his head, recognizing that something was wrong. "Sam, you know Jack." He grinned. "Sorry. I mean, **your** Colonel."

He smiled, but she just stared back, waiting.

Griff coughed, and then continued. "Anyway, Jack made a causal comment, nothing very specific, mentioning October first as the date that it would be good for all of this to be done. There was also something about not wanting you to get too distracted with the move and that work was pretty busy for you both; I don't really remember. But given that he asked, and mentioned a date, I did try to make sure it happened. I thought -- well, anyway, doesn't matter what I thought. "

His eyes were serious and a somewhat worried expression appeared. "I assumed this is what you wanted. I'm sorry if it's not. I'll tell Samuels to pull off Jefferson if that's what you want."

Damn puppy dog eyes. Griff and the Colonel had a lot in common: innocent expressions when completely guilty; puppy dog eyes to divert the victim from demanding reparations or even apologies about the crime; and who knew what else. They were both dangerous, and irritating. But as far as she knew, at least Griff had her best interests seriously at heart. And was honestly innocent in this case.

But she couldn't quite yet let it go. "When did the Colonel manage to mention my .. plans… to you?"

Griff looked relieved at the mild tone of her question, but still clearly somewhat nervous. Good. He should be.

He shrugged, and smiled hopefully. "It was really casual, Sam. At last month's poker game with the crew."

She rubbed her head, thinking. "The crew being?" She remembered his earlier comments. "Are you telling me that you play poker once a month with the Colorado Springs Police chief and the Colonel?"

"Yeah. Of course, there's also Jeff Anderson, who's the City Planner, and Frank Levitt, head of--"

She broke in, sighing. "The point is that there is some sort of gathering that pretends to be a poker game that happens each month where a lot of the Colorado Springs politicos, the USAF brass, and the uhh…", she gestured at him, "newly rich-- meet to talk …turkey."

Griff looked at her like she was dense or something. "Of course."

She gritted her teeth. "And that's when 'Jack' mentioned this date. At these … gatherings."

He smiled, clearly thinking he was free and clear.

"Did the Colonel mention that I know at least three ways to kill an adversary in less than two seconds?"

He swallowed. "Yeah. But only because I asked what you were like when I was wondering how much fun it would be to work with you. I have to admit, Sam, that for me that was a little off-putting. I mean, I know Jack thinks that's a calling card in recommendations, but he is military."

She raised her eyes to the ceiling, irony clear.

"Yeah, got it. So are you."

He shrugged. "Okay, I get the message. You're not happy about the fact that some casual conversations at a 'guy' type poker game among some friends resulted in my getting involved in your renovation or my ordering some things I should have asked you about first instead of assuming the information I got from Jack was correct."

She hoped the satire came through in her response. "You're quick, Griff. I have to give you that." And what she was going to do to the Colonel was…

"He did mean to help you, you know. And so did I."

Hell. Now she felt like shit. And probably should. They had meant only to help.

She sighed and gave it up. "I know that. And I do appreciate everything you've done. "

"So, we're good?"

She grinned, thinking it through. "Yeah, we're good."

And that, she supposed, settled that.

And so, here she was. October 1, sitting in her purple living room, in an 1880 house with unbelievable power and connections, new plumbing, and a suspicious feeling that it had all just been a little too easy. On the other hand, she still had to repaint every room in the house -- purple, orange and green just not being her preferred choices; gut the kitchen and replace all of it; get someone in to refinish all the hardwood floors; and clear all of the overgrown brush and replant the land.

Maybe not that easy. She grinned. She could handle that. But in the meantime, she'd better get to bed. She still had to get through Friday before she could start planning work for the weekend.

TBC…


	4. Chapter 4

4

4.

Eight hours later, she stared mournfully at her coffee, wondering why the caffeine just wasn't kicking in. It was her third cup, after all. She should be more than--

"Sam?"

"Huh?" She looked up suddenly at Daniel and promptly spilled the dregs of her cup on the table. "Oh, jeez. Sorry." She grabbed the paper napkins at the table and started clearing the mess.

Daniel stopped eating, his fork in the air. "Uh, no problem."

"What did you want?"

"Nothing."

"**What**?"

He cleared his throat, and swallowed. "Well, it's just that your usual scintillating breakfast conversation seems a tad off today. I was wondering what's up, but it's not important. I'm sure you have a lot on your mind with moving in last night and all."

She glanced at him, annoyed. "Nothing's up and the house is--" She never finished the sentence, due to the Colonel's arrival.

"Hey, kids. Daniel, Carter -- whoah." The Colonel sat down at the table, and stared at her and then at the table. "No offense, Carter, but you look like hell and apparently the table's got a bit of a problem this morning as well. So, what's up? Stayed up working on the house too late last night?"

"That's what I just asked her." She grimaced at Daniel, but he continued, oblivious of her annoyance. "Not the same way, of course, but still. Anyway, her not sleeping's understandable, Jack. New house, all that excitement, and we're not scheduled off-world or anything today, so I imagine she figured that--"

She was going to kill them both. Absolutely. She interrupted Daniel, murder in her eye. "For your information, Daniel, I can speak for myself. And for your information, Colonel, I did not stay up too late last night. I am perfectly ready to go anywhere, including off-world, if necessary. And for both of your information, the house renovations are going fine, and thank you both for asking." She stared at them both and then remembered that she was talking to her CO in the form of the Colonel.

"Sir." She nodded her head his way, hoping the last-minute gesture of respect would make up for the last few minutes of insubordination.

"Uhuh, sure. Whatever you say, Carter." The Colonel looked up from his oatmeal, staring suspiciously at Daniel.

"Hey. I did not do a thing. Nothing. Totally innocent here. And anyway, why blame me all the time? Besides, haven't we done this 'you blame me for upsetting Sam and I defend myself thing' before at breakfast? "

The Colonel cocked his head, considering. "Yeah, I think we have." He stared at Daniel's plate. "It was when you were eating the SGC versions of eggs."

Daniel grimaced. "I gave up on the eggs three weeks ago. Inedible." He gestured to his plate. "This is the 'breakfast medley'."

"Looks like the SGC version of eggs to me."

Daniel sighed and moved his plate away. "Yeah, that's what I thought, too."

The Colonel resumed eating his oatmeal. "So, what's the deal, Carter? The ghosts at Goblin Manor keep you up last night?"

"My house is not haunted."

"Sure."

"And its name is not Goblin Manor."

"True, but I didn't think you'd appreciate Hayes House. Too many associations."

Daniel looked up at that. "So, Sam's house has a history?"

"Oh, yeah. Third most famous haunted house in Colorado Springs, right after the Lee Residence and St. Francis Hospital. 'Course, they're a lot better known, but still…" He shuddered mockingly.

She was going to kill him, really.

Daniel was going to be second, although he didn't know it. Right now, he just looked like a man ready and willing to be amused.

"So do tell." He gestured at Jack. "I've heard about Lee Residence, but I don't know the story about St. Francis or Sam's house."

Unfortunately, the Colonel was in some sort of mood, because he started in, oblivious as well to her glares and truth be told, unspoken pleas, to cease and desist.

"Hmm. St. Francis, well, lots of people have had … experiences at St. Francis. In 29; that's the name of the wing built in 1929 that was used as a tuberculosis ward. Hundreds died there. Horrific, terrifying deaths, just wasting away."

He paused, and then continued. "Now, I personally know about St. Francis because I have a friend who worked there."

"Sure you do." Daniel grinned.

The Colonel smiled. "I didn't say she worked there now. This was about three years ago. She was assigned to the Records Room in 29, the only part of the building still in use. The rest was dark, abandoned and deserted. She was doing evening temp work so she was in there alone. Night after night, static ran from the public address system; nothing she could identify, a constant hum. Finally, she asked about it. But it turned out that system had been disconnected fifty years before. No one would believe her that it was on. And the sounds only came when no one else was there.

"For a long time, she stayed in the Records room, door locked, and tried to ignore the sounds. But one night, she got up the courage to go out into the halls.

"There were ghosts of doctors running towards the wings, answering the call. She grabbed ones arm, but he melted through her, heading to a room ahead. Swallowing, she finally followed him. When she got there, it was empty.

"Turns out it had been empty for at least seventy years. It was the scene of a particularly horrific death. One of the patients slit his wrists in order to die quickly. Blood everywhere. The docs tried to save him, but couldn't. The hospital closed that particular room and locked it after that, but it was open when she went in. She said the cot was still there; all of the furniture there but abandoned. "

Daniel grinned, amused. "Oh yeah, scary, Jack. Really scary."

The Colonel shrugged, wriggling his eyebrows. "Actually, it **was** for my friend. She still refuses to work nights in 29 these days." He paused, thinking. "But I suspect that's mostly because of the orderly."

Daniel smiled. "I'll bite. What orderly?"

"Jeffrey Hatchett. Died sometime in the early 30s; a freak accident in Wing 29. Evidently, he now has a habit of surprising nurses when they're in 29's Records room by coming up from behind and asking in a muffled voice, 'What ya doin?'"

He waited a beat, smiling to himself. "Anyway, the repeated occurrences of Hatchett appearing from out of nowhere totally unnerved my friend. Of course, the fact that he locked her in a closet once didn't help either. It took her three hours to get out. And that, as they say, was the end."

Daniel didn't miss a beat. "Sounds like the guy had some Black Ops training."

Jack smiled. "You know, I've wondered that myself."

Sam groaned, almost amused, her bad mood lifting slightly. "You are **so** making this up, sir."

The Colonel stared at her, innocently. "I'm not. All true. Check '.'"

"There is no such site."

He looked hurt and offended. "Of course there is. Would I lie?"

Daniel chuckled. "Jack, if you're saying that you've spent hours surfing the net for stories about haunted houses, I, for one, believe you. I imagine it beats paperwork."

Jack grinned. "Exactly, Daniel. Any port in a storm."

Daniel stirred his coffee, smiling. "But you still haven't said why you think Sam's house is haunted. Is it listed on the site?"

Jack coughed. "Uh, no. Its reputation is local, part of the neighborhood stories. Still, it's famous in it's own right."

She bristled. "My house is not haunted."

"Ah, but Carter, it is. At least it has that reputation."

"So ?"

Daniel, damn him, just goaded the Colonel on. Okay, so maybe she had been amused as well when the Colonel was talking about St. Francis, but now he was talking about **her house**. And that was a whole new ball of wax.

The Colonel clearly didn't notice, or ignored, her annoyance.

"Well, first off you have to understand this is all just local rumor, not actually 'documented data.'" He raised his hands, making quotes out of the air.

Daniel smiled ironically. "Got it. This is supposition, unlike what's posted at ."

Jack coughed and smiled. "Exactly, Daniel. Local color, probably."

He continued. "So, Sam's house was built by a guy named Henry Hayes in the late 1880s, who was a --."

Daniel interrupted. "Uhh, Jack. That's the name of the Senate Majority Leader. Maybe you want to pick a new-"

Jack broke in. "Yeah, interesting, huh? But I don't think they're related. The Senator grew up in Minnesota, of course, and as far as I know Sam's house's 'Henry Hayes' never had kids. 'Course, I've been wrong before."

Daniel groaned. "Okay, let's just let it go and go on with the story?"

But the Colonel wasn't going to until "facts" were verified. "Carter, did your real estate agent tell you that your house was the 'Hayes House' or not? Because legally he needed to disclose--"

She sighed. "Yes, he mentioned that that's what it was called."

"Really?" Daniel looked honestly surprised.

She groaned, not quite believing that she was actually verifying facts about her house that the Colonel brought up to prove it was haunted. "Really."

Daniel coughed. "Okay. Glad we cleared that up. So, Sam's house really was built by a 'Henry Hayes' who lived in the 1880s?"

Jack interrupted, annoyed at the diversion. "I already told you that, Daniel. The 1880 Henry Hayes, and just to be clear here I am NOT trying to make any connections to the present Senator, was a gambler and a prospector; a risk taker. He was great at the prospecting; perhaps not so at gambling.

"He built Hayes House from his success at the Sarah Silver mine in what's now the Collegiate peaks, on Mt. Princeton. The Sarah produced mostly silver, some gold and brought in about what would now be about 100 mil the first year, even challenged the Molly Brown's output. But he didn't stop there; he planned to expand mining operations and established the town of Cripple Bank to do just that, planning bigger and better things, and in the end, that's what literally broke his bank. The mine didn't produce as much as he'd hoped and supporting the town was a drain on his capital. He finally closed the mine in 1915, and the town disappeared soon after. Abandoned."

Jack shrugged, thinking. "Evidently, he wasn't the most charming guy in the world. Had the last of the settlers physically removed against their will."

Daniel cocked his head, interested in the story. "So, a little like the landlord sweeps in Ireland in the 19th century."

"Yeah, a bit."

Daniel blinked, clearly surprised that the Colonel knew something about Irish history and was actually willing to acknowledge it, and then got back to the point. "So anyway…"

"Anyway, the story claims that he nibbled away at his fortune after that, and then was destitute enough during Prohibition to turn the place into a speak-easy, and had an illegal still and bar operating there. Apparently, he made another gamble and it was one that paid off for a while."

"And then?"

"And then he got in a brawl on the property and shot two men, one of whom shot him as well. All three of them died."

"Huh."

Jack grinned. "Supposedly, they all haunt the place, playing poker and causing general disruption in the cellars. Some of the settlers from Cripple Bank apparently have been seen as well, still protesting."

Sam had had it. "OK, that's enough ghost stories about my house, sir."

He looked up innocently. "So, no noises in the cellar last night?"

She ground her teeth. "Yes, there **were **noises in the cellar last night, and yes, they actually were what kept me awake, and so, yes, I did not sleep that well last night, if that's what all of this has been about. So, if that's what you wanted to know, there you have it. Sir."

The Colonel seemed not to notice her yet again near rebellion, and cocked his head sympathetically. She hated it when it looked like he was appearing to her to humor her, but there was nothing she could do about it, so here they were.

"Sorry to hear you didn't sleep that well, Carter."

She ignored the comment, wanting to get the conversation out of the way and over with before she got put up on insubordination charges, but unable to stop herself from defending her home. "But even though there were noises, there were, and let me repeat myself here, **no ghosts** in the cellar. It was just furnace noises, appliances, whatever. Noises houses typically make. It was my first night in the house. I'm not used to the sounds."

"Hmm. Well, you know, Daniel did mention that might be the case; that you might be excited about moving in and unused to the noise and so just got up on the wrong side of the bed."

Daniel objected. "I never said that. I said she looked like she was tired and suggested that maybe she'd been up all night."

The Colonel grinned, clearly ready dig in and argue the point.

She finally stopped it by getting up and grabbing her tray. "I have things to do, sir."

He raised his eyebrows, but didn't ask what, thank whatever. "Sure, Carter. Go play. Have fun. And for what it's worth, I honestly didn't mean to upset you about Goblin Manor's history. As I said, I'm sure it's all rumor."

She walked away, looking down at her tray, ignoring him, and consequently barely avoided Teal'c as he sat down next to the chair she had been in. She could hear the conversation as she left.

"Why are you referring to Major Carter's home as Goblin Manor, O'Neill?"

"Well, as I was just explaining to Daniel here, there are evil beasties that live in her cellar. Ghosts, really. But seeing as goblins are nicer than ghosts, I thought I'd lighten up the name of the place, just to, you know, be nice."

"I see." Teal'c paused, clearly considering the Colonel's comment. "Why do you consider goblins to be nicer than ghosts? From the literature of your planet, such as Tolkien, goblins are indeed evil entities, with little to no intelligence and no free choice."

"Yeah, well, Teal'c, that's not the only book goblins have been depicted in writing on this planet. Some goblins were ok, as evil beasties go."

"And these are?"

Daniel broke in. "Actually, the idea of goblins started out in…."

Sam couldn't stand it anymore. She walked out the door, headed to her lab and sanity. Ghosts and goblins, indeed. At this point she **would** prefer a Goa'uld.

A/N. There honestly is a website. And there is a story about 29, and even a story about an orderly who haunts 29.. grin.

My thanks to HDorothy who pointed out some errors in cannon in an earlier draft. Thanks!! I really appreciate it.

TBC…


	5. Chapter 5

5

5.

Saturday.

Sanity.

Quiet.

And peace.

It was great.

No difficult Colonels, no archaeologists amused by ghost stories, no one asking for clarification about the definition of 'evil beasties' in Earth literature, no Goa'ulds, ghosts, or goblins and no one wandering into her lab asking her impossible questions with no possible answer. Well, various and sundry riff-raff may still be wandering into her lab, but she wasn't there to see it and she didn't have to deal with it.

Yeah. Life was good.

Just her and her house, and they seemed to have reached some sort of understanding, because she'd slept deeply the night before. There had been nothing except complete, blissful and utter silence. No bumps and knocks in the night.

She smiled into her coffee. Life was, in fact, not just good but great. She watched the sun rise in her backyard, its glow spreading through the aspens on the east side of her land, the light shimmering through the golds and oranges of the aspen leaves. She turned to the west, and watched the new day's light from the east reflect on the mountain foothills, roses and oranges mixing in a glorious combination. It was quiet, just the birds chirping their way into a new day, the scene peaceful and perfect.

She grinned, thinking. Perfect except for the fact that her trees were in bad need of a haircut and her brush was way overgrown and she was not sitting on the deck of her dreams. In fact, she didn't even have a deck. A lawn chair and a run down table were the accurate facts.

She smiled, thinking. Yep, it didn't get much better than this: great views, a new day, autumn in Colorado with its glorious colors and terrific weather, and a bunch of projects to accomplish. And she had the weekend to savor the feeling. SG1 was on enforced downtime for two days due to the fact that they'd been on call for the last 60 days. So, she had two whole days of nothing except what she wanted to do in front of her.

She thought about the last two years since she'd become a member of SG1. Normally, two days off would have bothered her; she'd have preferred working in her lab. But this time, she was honestly looking forward to the break.

Her house needed her, after all.

She grinned. Maybe there was something to be said about getting a life. Well, maybe. Perhaps it was possible.

She finished the rest of her coffee, and decided that she was being way, way, way too philosophical for the moment. The day was beckoning and she was ready to be beckoned. It was time for a run. Some exercise was the perfect way to start the day. Seeing that her new place was just two blocks from a trail head into the foothills and the wilderness, she had an easy way to accomplish that objective, now that she had a home.

TBC…


	6. Chapter 6

6.

The run was as spectacular as she'd expected. She ran on a soft trail of dirt, first through the fall aspens, their leaves splattering the ground in displays that made it seem like the path was one of never ending gold. Then the trail changed as she climbed, going through the green dark pines and ferns characteristic of higher altitudes, the deep forests beautiful but still indecipherable. As she'd passed the pines, traversing alpine meadows, the view opened up to tremendous displays of the high mountains that could only be seen at the top of the foothills. Then the peaks of the Rockies became visible, their tops already covered in snow. She could see for miles; the sun glistening over the mountain range in the distance and the lakes and valleys below her.

It glorious and it was incredibly beautiful. A special memory she wanted to keep; perfect in its transience; a snapshot of a moment. She was completely and blissfully alone.

Or… not.

No, definitely not. She squinted at the figure she could see ahead, his back to her and the trail, looking out at the view of the mountain peaks and the lake below.

Jeez. It was the Colonel. Of course it was the Colonel. Who else except another combat ready air force officer would be five miles into the mountains on a run at 6 a.m. on a Saturday morning? Argh. He probably thought of this as his personal trail, a time to get away, and here she was barging into his space, even if it was open space.

She sighed. There was no way to avoid him. She knew that his instincts were good enough that he already knew she was behind him. She just had to suck it up and apologize, not that she really had anything to apologize for, but still.

She stopped next to him, staring out at the view. "Colonel."

"Hey, Carter. Beautiful day." He turned to her and smiled.

Whoah. A full-fledged full blown smile, one she'd never seen before, the light in his eyes practically sparkling, his face relaxed and peaceful. The Colonel was always a good looking man, but when he smiled like that --. Uh. Oh, boy, and where had that thought come from? She rubbed her eyes, and regrouped.

He didn't seem to notice her confusion. "Glad you found the trail. It's one of the better ones on this side of the Springs."

She looked out at the vista, the clear blue skies reflected in the water of the lake a thousand feet below, the snow-capped peaks glistening in the distance. "It really is beautiful. Do you run here often?"

He shrugged. "Pretty regularly when we're on downtime. Good way to start the day."

"What's up ahead?"

He grinned. "More great views of "the Peak", as in Pikes, and of the Collegiate Peaks to the west and a lot of altitude gain. It's another 2000 feet up to the top in less than two miles. I usually stop here and then head back down."

She sighed, vaguely disappointed. She'd love to keep going, but she should probably stop as well. She had a lot to do that day.

He seemed to recognize her recognize her disappointment. "Hey, Carter, tell you what. Let's head back down and I'll make you some breakfast. Kind of a welcome to the neighborhood thing and all."

"You cook?" She backtracked. "Sorry, sir, I didn't mean that the way it sounded." Well, actually she had but she hadn't meant to say the thought out loud.

Oops.

He waved his hand. "It's ok, Carter. I can understand your concern, considering that the only thing you've actually seen me cook is an MRE. But, yes, I can cook. You interested?"

Strange, he almost looked sheepish, like he expected her to turn him down. Huh. Maybe she should turn him down. She didn't know what the regs had to say about eating breakfast alone with her CO on her downtime. "I don't know if that's such a good idea, sir."

He broke into her meanderings, his voice slightly exasperated, seemingly able to read her thoughts. "Carter, it's breakfast, for crying out loud. I dare you to find anything in the regs that state that I can't cook a neighbor breakfast, even if you are a subordinate, and that you can't eat it, even though I am your CO. Sheesh."

She grinned. "It's a deal, sir."

"Good. And it's Jack."

"Sir?"

"Not on duty, Carter. It's 'Jack'." He raised his hands, indicating quotes.

"I --" she paused, thinking. Why not? Lots of people on base called him Jack off-duty; she'd heard them at parties. She grimaced. Okay, that wasn't strictly true. She'd mostly heard the other SG team leaders call him Jack, and Daniel, of course. But what could it hurt? There was no one around, after all. "Okay, Jack."

He grinned. "That easy? "

She couldn't help smiling back. "Why not? You are cooking me breakfast. I expect eggs, bacon, pancakes with the Minnesota maple syrup you're always raving about, blueberry muffins and --"

"And you're getting 'omelet a la O'Neill'. Jeez, Carter, I know you're high maintenance, but to expect to order breakfast to your specifications when invited as a guest is just --"

"Hey, I am not high maintenance."

He stared at her, smiling.

"I'm not." She was starting to get slightly exasperated, even though she knew he was joking; well, thought he was joking.

"Carter, since you've arrived at the SGC, I've had at least one requisition request per week from you on my desk concerning your doohickeys. Last week, I had to justify 20 grand for the thing-a-ma-jingy upgrade of your microscope. And if you think that was easy, let's just say you're deluding yourself. I actually had to **explain **what you needed it for."

She grinned. "I'm a scientist, sir."

"Exactly my point. High maintenance; all of 'em. You should see the things Danny tries to get me to justify." He shuddered, mockingly.

She raised her eyes and shook her head, smiling. "Okay, you win. All scientists are high maintenance, and we were obviously put on the planet to torment hard-working down to earth innocent Colonels."

He smiled. "See, I knew you'd see it my way eventually." He gestured towards the trail. "C'mon, Carter. Days waiting and I'm hungry."

She grinned again and started back down the trail.

TBC…


	7. Chapter 7

7.

The results were in. "Omelet a la O'Neill" was excellent. The Colonel… Jack… honestly could cook. And, now that she was a homeowner herself, she realized that she loved his house. It was warm and welcoming, relaxed and informal, not what one would expect given his demeanor at the SGC. The kitchen was especially interesting; the set-up was great.

She thought about it, wondering if there was a way she could replicate some of the design in her remodel, particularly the placement of the stove in the island that took up most of the middle of the room. It made a lot of sense; you could get at all of the burners at once from various directions. Probably made for a great room for entertaining. And the windows here were spectacular as well. Lots of glass, opening into what was a lovely garden behind them. The Colonel… Jack… wasn't very interested in flowers as far as she could see.

She shuddered, trying to imagine the Colonel planting pansies. The idea was too horrific to contemplate. But the bushes were really fantastic, at least in fall. There was a dark red bush over to the right that was truly stunning.

"Earth to Carter."

"I -- sorry, si.. Jack. Breakfast was terrific. Thanks."

"And you were on what planet?"

"Uh, pretty sure I'm on Earth today, sir."

"Ahh--"'

"Jack."

He grinned. "So what's the story, Carter? You've been happily chittering away about your house for the last thirty minutes and then you suddenly blanked-out on me. View this as a helpful comment from a neighbor who's wondering about your sanity."

She looked up at that. "I don't chitter."

He raised his eyes to the ceiling, picking up the plates and stashing them in his dishwasher. "Of **course** you don't."

"I don't."

He groaned. "Carter, I didn't even know the meaning of the word until I met you. Trust me. You chitter when you're happy or excited. It's cute."

She bristled. Damn, he always knew exactly what to say to annoy her, and she knew he did it deliberately. But she couldn't stop herself from rising to the bait.

"I am **not** cute."

He threw the remainders of their breakfast into the garbage, moving through the kitchen. "True. You're incredibly beautiful."

Whoah. She stared at him, shocked, not sure how to take the comment, but somehow a warm glow settled in. When he turned to look at her, she knew he was clearly appalled and somewhat shocked as well at what he'd said.

He cleared his throat. "Carter, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."

Her expression must have been confused, because he continued. "Oh, hell. I don't mean that I didn't mean what I said, I just meant that I'm sorry I mentioned it. It's not like you're being incredibly beautiful isn't a well known fact, or anything, because it is."

"What?"

"But I-- damn." He swallowed. "Is there any possible way I can get out of this without getting a completely justified harassment suit filed against me? I meant the comment as a casual statement, nothing more."

He was clearly totally flustered. She smiled. She had never, ever, seen the Colonel this flustered before. Not ever. It was great.

She considered his question, and decided to turn the tables. He had spent the last three weeks teasing her about her house, after all.

"Might be a way."

"Thanks." He looked relieved, and apologetic at first, but something in her expression must have given her away, because his expression turned to one of suspicion.

"You're not upset at all, " he commented accusingly.

She grinned. "I've been called worse things than 'incredibly beautiful', and yes, I know what you meant, and that you didn't… uh… mean it. It's ok, Jack. I understand."

But he still looked worried, so she tried to lighten the moment by mimicking his jokes." And while it's possible that I may be known to 'chitter' upon occasion, **you **are well-known to engage in the 'insert foot into mouth and watch what happens' scenario with relish pretty frequently."

He looked annoyed. She backtracked. Maybe teasing your CO was not a good idea. "Uhh… sir. Sorry, sir."

He grinned. "'Jack', Carter, and thanks for letting me off the hook."

"So, what's the payment?"

"What?" She wasn't quite sure where they were in the conversation. But talking to the Colonel tended to do that to one.

"You said there might be a way I could make it up to you."

"Uhh, yeah." She thought about it. Might as well go for the whole nine yards. "Can I borrow your truck?"

"Nope."

"Oh, well, ok, then."

"Carter, the truck and I are a combo. No one drives the truck except me. However, given that I do want to apologize, you can borrow both of us. What do you have in mind?"

"Bushes."

"Excuse me?"

"I need to get a handle on the grounds around my house. So, first I wanted to head out to the hardware store and buy some equipment -- pruners, stuff like that. And, I want to put **in** some new bushes." She gestured towards his backyard, and to the deep red bush she'd admired earlier. "Like that one." She paused, thinking. "I can get most of the equipment into the Volvo, but to bring home bushes I need a truck."

The Colonel looked at her like she'd lost her mind. "Have you ever pruned or planted anything?"

She grimaced. "Well, no, but I've been reading about it and it can't be that tough." She paused, defending herself. "And now is the right time to prune and plant, before the frosts."

Jack grinned. "True."

She stared at him suspiciously. "I am not out of my mind. This is the right time to do structural outside work on bushes and trees, before the frosts."

He shrugged, smiling. "Of course it is."

"So, you have no problems with this plan?"

"Nope."

"Okay, what then?" Huh. This was new, and slightly unnerving. An accommodating Colonel. Very unnerving. "I'm serious, Jack. What am I missing?"

He shrugged. "You did ask, right?"

"Yes."

"Okay, but remember you asked. Do you have any idea what you want to plant, where you want to plant it, and whether your preferred plants will like where you want them to live? We have a lot of light in Colorado, but most new plantings around here require water regularly. Given the recent droughts, the city's restricting local watering to regularly scheduled times, and given we work at the SGC, we don't have the option of being very regular. The only way to keep anything alive in the west that isn't a weed or a trash tree " -- he gestured out towards his yard-- "is to set up an automatic watering system. Last time I looked, Goblin Manor didn't have good electrical, let alone an automatic system around the place. And you really ought to put that in first, before planting the bushes."

She thought about it. "So, no planting until I get in a watering system."

He shrugged. "Seems like a sensible approach."

"I can still do the pruning."

"Yeah. In fact, that is a good idea. Last time I saw your place it was seriously overgrown."

"Can I borrow you and your truck to help?"

He smiled. "Oh yeah, you betcha. The truck is ready to pick up parcels and I am willing to help prune, seeing as you've never pruned a bush before. Takes some skill."

"I suppose you're an expert on that."

"I do know a few things, Carter, and pruning is one of them."

"Uhuh." She didn't believe him.

"I'm serious. I've owned houses for nearly twenty years now in Colorado, not to mention the cabin and the land in Minnesota. I've done my share of pruning."

She looked out at his backyard, and had to admit the point. His land was beautiful.

"Why?"

"What?"

"I mean, why gardening? I wouldn't have thought that you'd care about something like that." When he looked slightly annoyed, she continued. "Don't get me wrong; your place is beautiful. But I've always thought of you as the type that hired a gardener, sir."

"Not a chance, Carter. I can tend to a few trees. Sometimes, some need a little help growing. You have to be paying attention personally to make sure that happens."

She angled her head, thinking. If she'd been a betting woman, she would have lost the bet. She'd never have predicted that the Colonel was interested in watching things grow. Which just went to prove how wrong you could sometimes be, even about people you thought you knew. Clearly, she had a lot to learn about Jack O'Neill. And that, she admitted to herself, could be fun. And consequently dangerous. Yep, could be fun.

"Carter? Hello?"

Oops. She'd lost track of the conversation again. "Sorry."

"You with me here? Because if this new house is resulting in your spacing out with regularity, maybe I should have a few words with the resident ghosts."

She grinned. "My house is not haunted."

"Whatever you say, Carter. Ready to head out for hardware?"

"Ready."

TBC…


	8. Chapter 8

8.

Seven hours later, she looked at her property with glee, and, yes, that was a stupid word, but it was the one that came to mind to describe her feelings about the place. So, "glee" it was; and she'd defy anyone to tell her differently.

They'd made a huge difference to the land already. She hadn't really comprehended how badly it was overgrown, and exactly how large it was, because she'd been so focused on the house. But now, after they'd taken out the "trash trees", as the Colonel called them, she could start to visualize what were, just like the house, some great bones, and what could possibly be a spectacular future garden.

Provided, of course, that they could clear out the rest of the brush in her lifetime. It was surprisingly hard work, given her fitness level. She turned and looked at the significant pile of brush that had accumulated where they'd agreed to leave it for a recycler to pick up and grinned. It was a lot of brush. The place was looking more civilized by the moment.

She wiped the sweat off of her forehead. Even though it was October, it was still warm in Colorado. She wondered what had happened to the Colonel; the last time she'd seen him he'd decided to tackle a particularly daunting patch of overgrown 60 foot pines and the grounds underneath and behind them.

Of course, just as she thought about where he was, he appeared, almost on cue. She grinned.

"Carter?"

God, he really did look … she grinned… "incredibly beautiful". Okay, that was a thought definitely left to herself. None-the-less, sweat did become him. Big time. She smiled.

"Over here."

She took a sip of water from the bottle she'd left on the ground, and then gestured to him, silently asking if he wanted any.

He came up to her and took his hat off, rubbing it against his forehead, and then grabbed the bottle from her hands. "Thanks."

She looked towards the pile. "Not bad, huh?"

"Yeah, not bad." He swallowed, standing above her, where she had deflated, resting, onto an old log.

"I think you should see what I just found. It's interesting."

"See what?"

He grinned. "Headstones, and a crypt."

She raised her eyes. "Oh, c'mon, sir. We've been through this. The house is not haunted. To be honest, the joke is getting a little old."

He stared down at her, taking off his shades. "I'm not joking, Carter. There are two headstones and a 4 by 4 ft. stone crypt underneath the trees at the very back end of the property."

She cocked her head. "Yeah, sure there are."

"I'm serious, Captain."

OK, that got her attention. "Seriously serious?"

He grinned, and pulled her up from her sitting position. "Yep. Honest to whatever, they're there. The property's been overgrown so long I doubt that anyone remembered they were there. I didn't even see them until I started cutting up the brush in the area. Come look."

So she did. And he was right, there were there. "I -- jeez." She bent down, trying to read the inscriptions on the headstones. They were clearly old, almost falling apart.

She traced the lines on one of them with her fingers the way Daniel had taught her to do, sensing by touch rather than visually. "Rachel -- Hayes, it feels like. 1886." She moved to the other stone. "And Francis. Same year. "

The Colonel crouched down next to her, staring at the stones. "Interesting, Carter. You've apparently purchased a graveyard along with Goblin Manor. We'll have to get Daniel on the project. My guess is that Rachel and Francis were related to Henry in some way."

"Terrific."

He stared down at the headstones. "It doesn't mean they're actually buried here. The stones may be Henry's way of acknowledging them, or something."

"Right."

"The realtor didn't mention the stones?"

"No. But he probably didn't know they were there. You're right; they've been overgrown for a long time."

"Could be."

He got up and began examining the 4 by 4 foot stone structure behind the headstones. He walked around the walls. "No entrance or door that I can see. It's just an out-building made of stone."

"With no roof."

He clarified her comment. "With no roof now." He peered over the edge of one of the short walls, bending at the waist. He shrugged. "Large chicken coop?"

He was clearly trying to distract her from the probable fact that there were two graves on her property. But it wasn't going to work.

"A chicken-coop made of stone? And no doorway? I doubt it, sir."

"Yeah. Seems unlikely to me as well."

He stood up and grinned. "So, the first mysterious incident at Goblin Manor. I knew this would be fun."

"Yeah, terrific."

"Carter, a few 1880 ish gravestones do not necessarily a bad experience make; they just add to the overall ambiance of the place -- and hey. Look at this. " He bent down, looking at the dirt by the far end side of the stone shed. "Tracks."

"What?"

He pointed at the ground. "Look. Tracks. Something's been digging here."

"Oh, great."

"It's probably just an animal. You might have raccoons, or even better yet, a coyote visiting the place."

"Yep, great."

"Sheesh, Carter. You need to get with the program here, go with the flow. An 1880 haunted mansion with gravestones and a crypt. How much better could it get?"

"You really want to ask me that right now?"

He grinned. "Fine. I will let you wallow in misery. It's probably required, anyway, seeing as you own it, and this is, after all, a ghost story."

She rubbed her eyes. "So, you really think there are no bodies under the headstones?" So, maybe she did sound pathetically hopeful in that last comment. But hey, it was her first house.

He looked at her sympathetically. It reminded her of the "calming the horses expression" that he used on Daniel on occasion. "I think it's seriously unlikely, Sam. They may have been buried here originally, but the graves would have been removed when this part of the Springs was developed. We can ask Daniel to track it, but legally your realtor had to tell you about something like that, and it would have been in the property records."

"I knew that."

He grinned. "I know you did."

She looked up, realizing that the sun had set while they were exploring. It was nearly too dark to see the even the house now.

The Colonel suddenly seemed to realize the change in light as well. "So, I should probably--""

"Why not stay for dinner?"

"Excuse me?"

She turned her head, not looking at him, and not wanting to worry about her motivations for asking him to stay. It was simple enough, or at least it should be. "I -- you've been helping me all day, I thought I could at least offer dinner."

"Sam."

She mimicked his earlier comment. "It's 'the neighborly thing to do and all'."

He smiled. "All right."

She grinned back at him. "Good."

He suddenly looked worried. "Are you cooking? In your kitchen? Because we could go my house and I actually have food there. And it's only a block away."

She grinned again. "I am not cooking. But I have terrific hand-eye coordination when it comes to my cell-phone. And I already know that Orchard Pavillion is the best Chinese around here and that they deliver."

"Ah."

"And, there's beer in the house."

"Oh, well, that's alright then."

And so it was. Everything was going to be fine.

A/N. from ch. 5 and 6 ( and this one). Mt. Santanas is a hiking/ running trail in Boulder, Colorado. I moved it for this story, as I don't know the Springs hiking/running trails that well. I moved the Orchard Pavillion also. Best Chinese in Boulder.

Pikes Peak is, of course, famous in the Springs and part of the Colorado Rockies ( it's what's referred to as a 14er (( 14,00 ft mountain -- Colorado has over 40, I think)), and the only one which has a road up it. Still beautiful. Anyway, for those of you who don't know the mountains in the US, the Rocky Mountains are the major n/s mountain range throughout the west. They run ( kind of) north to south throughout all of the state of Colorado, and create a geographical barrier. 3/4 of the population ( about 4.5 mil now) of the state lives on the eastern side of the Rockies. The Springs was one of the first cities established in the western US in Colorado, based on mining. You'll see more explanation of that in this story later.

TBC...


	9. Chapter 9

9.

In fact, as it turned out, it was more than fine. Although the Colonel eyed her kitchen suspiciously a number of times, and she had to admit that he had a point as it need a total renovation, and seeing as her dining room was full of boxes they avoided that room as well, they still managed to scrounge out space in the living room to drink some beers and have some Chinese.

"Interesting décor, Carter."

She grinned, resting her head back on the Mies Van der Rohe chair that she'd brought with her from her ultra modern apartments of the past, and put her feet up on the footstool in front of her. She gestured with her chopsticks towards the fireplace in front of them and the walls around. "Glad you like it. Personally, I think the purple on the walls adds a certain touch to 1880 style."

He relaxed back into the couch in front of the fireplace, his feet resting on the coffee table. "Oh yeah. Very much a statement."

"Glad you think so, sir."

He grinned. "So, what's the plan?"

"Well, I thought getting the purple out of here might help."

He shook his head. "Nah, the purple can wait. You have to set priorities, Carter, and then follow-through."

"So, there are more important priorities beyond the purple? Because personally I don't see them."

He grinned. "Yep. Trust me. There are."

"As in?" OK, this was going to be interesting. She couldn't imagine anything more important in her house than removing the purple from the walls forever.

"The kitchen."

Oh, yeah, well, it was true, there was that. "I really don't cook much, Jack. "

She was slightly appalled at the look in his eyes. She'd seen it before, when he'd decided there was something that needed to be done, but his response was mild.

"Adds to the property value."

She shrugged. "I just bought it; I'm not planning on selling anytime soon."

"Carter, you are not going to be able to throw SGC parties here with the kitchen in its present state. "

She shrugged again. "I wasn't planning on having parties anyway."

"Eh? No SGC parties? None?"

"At least not for a while. Kitchen renovations are pricey."

"So, you've looked into it?"

"Yeah, but -- ". Oh hell. She'd just given him an opening. She stopped talking before she could get herself in deeper.

He smiled. She groaned. Clearly the damage was done.

He looked down at his beer bottle, picking at the label. "I figure 15 grand at most."

Huh. She wondered what planet **he **was on. "More like 50."

"That's only if you count in the labor and contract outside outfits for the construction."

"What? I'm supposed to do this myself in my spare time?"

He smiled and she knew she was in trouble. Very serious trouble, because that smile, coming from the Colonel, meant he had a plan. She just didn't know what it was yet.

"Only if you want to."

"Sure… and that means you have a plan on how to get me free help?"

"No plan, Carter, just some suggestions."

She cocked her head, curious. "Like what?"

"Reynolds on SG4 is an architect. He can create the architectural plans, once you give him your ideas on the renovation, and suggest changes. And Sellberg on SG5 is certified by the city as a mechanical engineer so he can make sure the gas, etc. is all up to code. Teal'c and Daniel can be pulled in, along with some of the Marines on SG17 like Fredrickson to help with demolition, and the SGC has some connections in the City offices that can help get the paperwork through the mill. I figure, with luck, you could have a new kitchen in three weeks, just with working evenings and weekends, provided no Goa'uld attacks this month and you have to focus on doohickeys and ways to save the world."

It sounded great, better than great, it sounded incredible. But it was impossible. "I don't even know Reynolds. I couldn't impose like that on him or anyone."

He smiled. "Well, that's where I come in, Carter. I can help you there. Not to mention the fact that I'm willing to add to the muscle in the project."

"Sir, even you can't use rank to --"

He looked insulted. "Nope, nothing like that. But I do have a few chips I can call in. They're friends, Carter. I've worked on their renovations; they've worked on mine. They'll help; in fact, I bet they'll be psyched. It's called being part of a community; friends help each other out. "

"They're your friends, Colonel. I don't know them."

He shrugged. "You're part of the SG1, and that officially qualifies you as a member of the community. And as for getting to know them, after this you will. Of course, you're going to have to throw a few parties in the process to thank them for their help and help the next time someone has a project they want to complete. But that shouldn't be so hard. Like I told you, Carter, you really do need to--"

She interrupted. "'Get a life', I know. You've ordered.. uhh.. mentioned that before."

He smiled. "Yeah, I did, didn't I. Always knew I had some great ideas."

She rolled her eyes and then thought about his offer. It was pretty amazing. "You honestly think they would be willing to help?"

"Yep. I do. Of course, you have to have a plan about what you want done."

"I have some drawings sketched out on the computer in my study upstairs. Maybe that could be a start."

"So, let's take a look." He got up and started cleaning up the remainder of their dinner. He looked back at her as she still sat in her chair, watching him.

"What?"

She shrugged. "I just never thought of you as someone interested in kitchen renovations, sir. That's all. Are you sure you want to do this?"

He rubbed his hands along the bridge of his nose. "Carter, I've personally renovated five kitchens in my lifetime. My first house with Sara, the cabin, my current place, and I helped Reynolds and Harrison renovate theirs. This is just another in a long line of kitchen clean-ups. Piece of cake."

"Not boring?"

He grinned. "Nope. Let's go take a look at your plans and see what you've got so far."

And so they did. It was midnight when she finally realized that maybe she'd gotten just a little too into the project.

The Colonel rolled back in his chair in her study, putting his hands behind his neck, stretching. "OK, looks like we have a plan. And it's getting late, Carter. I have got to go if we want to hit the Mt. Santanas trail tomorrow at seven. "

"What?"

"Running. Thought you might like to see the other best trailhead around the area. Neighborly introduction and all. If you show up at my place at seven tomorrow, I can navigate you there."

He grinned. "Of course, you can always plead a need to sleep in. You are on downtime, after all."

She rolled her eyes. "Seven it is."

"Okay, that works." He got up and started to head down the stairs. When they reached the door, he turned and smiled. "It was fun, Carter. Thanks for the day."

She swallowed. "I enjoyed it too." She grinned. "So, you cooking breakfast tomorrow?"

He raised his eyebrows. "High maintenance."

She grinned. "Yep. And I expect pancakes this time."

"Right."

"And we need to finish the brush clean up in the afternoon."

"Don't push it, Carter, I am just a kindly neighbor here, welcoming you to the area."

She grinned. "You can look at the gravestones again and figure out the ghosts."

"Okay, you have a deal."

She couldn't stop smiling as he left.

TBC…


	10. Chapter 10

10.

The Mt. Santanas trail was indescribably beautiful, the Minnesota maple syrup lived up to its reputation, and the pruning was complete. There was a satisfyingly six foot high pile of debris in the middle of her yard, ready for the recycler.

She leaned back in her Van der Rohe chair and grinned at the Colonel, who was finishing the last of the pizza they'd ordered for dinner that night. It had seemed perfectly natural for him to stay for dinner again, given that they'd worked all day in her yard. And so, here they were. She shrugged to herself. OK, maybe spending all weekend with her CO was a little… well, technically, probably a lot, out of order, but it was all perfectly innocent. And it had been fun. And if she'd been Daniel, or Teal'c for example, not a single eyebrow would be raised at the weekend activities.

She cocked her head, looking at the Colonel. He was completely relaxed and comfortable. And, boy, he was easy on the eyes. Whoops. She canceled the thought. She really did have to get a grip.

"Carter, what's up? You're out in space again."

"Don't know what you mean." She took a sip of beer and sat up, silently ordering her mind to get itself out the gutter, immediately.

He stared at her suspiciously. "You look like the cat that ate the canary. What's going on in that busy brain of yours? I've asked you two times about… well, never mind, the point is that you're clearly somewhere else. Where is that anyway?"

She did so not want to go near that one. She swallowed badly, coughing. "Sorry."

"Are you all right?"

She put her beer down on the table next to her and took a few deep breaths. "I -- yeah, sorry. Just went down the wrong pipe."

"Okaayyy, so **now** you want to tell me what's up?"

No. She really, really did not. Definitely did not. No way in hell.

"Carter?"

"I'm just pleased with the way the day went, sir. The house is looking good, thanks to your help."

Yep, "sir" was the right idea. It was a good word. In fact, it was a great word. She needed to use it a LOT more often and with regularity.

He scowled. "I told you the name is Jack off-duty."

Oh boy. Maybe spending the whole weekend with her CO was not necessarily a good idea. Then she grinned. But hell, it was fun. They couldn't court martial her for her thoughts, after all. Acting on them, though, was another thing. She'd known she was heading into dangerous territory yesterday; now she just needed to learn how to enjoy living on the precipice. Yeah, OK. So, that worked. She could do that. She lived in Colorado, after all. Lots of precipices here in Colorado.

"Carter? Am I detecting lots of canaries? Because that grin is a little scary. Just what is going --."

He stopped abruptly.

The sounds from the cellar underneath them were unmistakable, glass crashing down on the floor, shattered and deliberate.

She stood up, her voice low and her thoughts completely forgotten. "Did you --?"

He cut the light in the room, and grabbed her hand, silencing her, in ready mode. She pulled away and located her side arm and some flashlights in the drawer where she kept them by the entranceway and then followed him, moving silently towards the steps down to the cellar.

It was impossible to see. He gestured towards her, making sure that she was ready, and then turned the flashlight on into the level below, scanning the area.

Slowly, they headed down the stairs.

There was nothing. Absolutely nothing. There was no one there; no glass broken on the floor, nothing.

He turned on the overhead lights and scanned the area, assessing the room. "Whoa, Carter. This is amazing."

She had to agree with him; the bones of the room were startling. It was clearly the place where Hayes had located his speak-easy; the mahogany bar at the south end was probably imported from Europe, back in the days when Hayes had money; the flooring as expensive. But that had been long ago. The glass behind the bar had been broken years ago, and the dust was pervasive, covering everything.

She looked the room over again carefully. "I could have sworn I heard glass breaking."

"You did. We both did. It was real. I heard it."

He sounded absolutely certain.

She shook her head. "But there's nothing here." She shrugged. "I guess then maybe we're both nuts… or it's your ghost coming to haunt me."

"It's not a joke, Carter. We both heard something down here. Did Griff finish the security system? Because he said he was going to put one in."

She stared at him; surprised that he'd admit to knowing Griff considering the trouble he'd gone through to keep that relationship quiet. He must be worried, and that worried her. "Yes, he did."

"Have you been using it?"

She shrugged. "Not really."

He stared back at her.

"It seemed like overkill."

"Jeez, Carter." He started prowling the room.

"Jack, there is nothing down here that could have resulted in that noise. Nothing. All of my boxes are up in the dining room and all that's down here is old memories of people illegally partying a long time ago who are long dead and lots of dust. We must have imagined it."

"I heard it, Carter. So did you. We did not imagine it. Something was down here, somewhere."

She didn't want to hear it. This was her home. She tried joking again. "It was probably just Hayes welcoming me to the property."

He didn't stop his examination, but he did look back at her from the wall he was staring at, crouching down towards the floor. "I don't believe in ghosts, Carter. And neither do you." He paused, picking up something from the ground on the tips of his fingers. "Look at this."

"What it is?"

"Glass shards."

"Really?" God, she did so not want to know about this.

But didn't notice her reticence; he was focused seriously on the problem. "Yes. I can't see why they'd show up … wait a minute."

"Huh."

"What?" She bent down, trying to see what he was pointing to.

"There's a crack here in the wall between the wainscoting… and…"

He stopped suddenly and then got up and walked to the far side of the building, scoping out the size and shape of the room.

"Carter, this room isn't nearly big enough."

"It works for me. Size really doesn't matter."

Ouch. Well, that was innuendo enough to last a lifetime. She cringed. "I can't believe I just said that."

But she had. She'd just blurted it out, not thinking. The fact was, she did not, definitely did not want any problems to be discovered related to her house. Bad kitchen, purple walls, fine. Strange sounds, unexplained glass shards, not so fine. She was in serious avoidance mode, and so inappropriate blurting seemed to be the result. Huh. That was a new one. Good way into a reprimand. Damn.

He looked back at her, surprised, and then grinned. "Carter, quit with the nerves, and as your special treat, I am not going to respond with the easy and obvious cliché, and instead pretend I never heard you say that."

"Thanks, I think. " She shook her head; she honestly was close to certifiable these days. This 'getting a life' stuff was more difficult than it appeared.

"Besides, if I had, I've had to file a harassment suit against you."

"Funny, sir. I'm really sorry. It was a stu--"

He raised his hand, stopping her. "Accepted, Carter. But regardless of the attempted distraction on your part, there is a problem with the size of this room." He paused. "Honestly, Sam. I'm serious. Take a look."

Okay, an O'Neill smile, a "Sam", and an appeal to her curiosity. She was toast and she knew it. She sighed and closed her eyes, preparing for the inevitable problems that were about to appear.

"Look at the space. You're about 10 by 15 or so short of what the foundation should be, and all of that lost space is under the living room where we heard the noise." He pointed to the wall. "And where I found the shards and the crack."

She really didn't want to hear it.

He wouldn't let her ignore the problem. "Think 3-D, Sam. You're a scientist. You know as well as I do that there has to be something behind that wall."

He moved back to the area, and began looking at the wainscoting, clearly looking for a doorway latch or another method of entrance.

"Yep. Thought so."

"Here it is." He pulled on a lever and then pushed on the wall. A three-foot piece began to move, until it finally opened up to a smaller room.

He turned the flashlight back on and headed in.

The place was filled with debris. The Colonel wandered through the room, looking at the remains. "This is clearly where Hayes stashed his stash and his still." He gestured towards equipment left from seventy years ago in the back of the room; then directed the flashlight beam onto the walls. "No electricity. Looks like he used kerosene to see in here and to run the still." He pointed his light on an old, beaten-up lantern.

"Look at this, sir." She pointed her flashlight beam on a shelf by the doorway. "That's probably what happened. The glasses on the shelf fell." She gestured with her light to the glasses, some askew on a tilted shelf, others broken on the floor.

"Glasses don't fall by themselves."

She looked at the shelf's construction carefully, checking the supports. "I think these did. It looks like a bolt came loose in the back and the shelf couldn't hold the weight."

"Maybe." He didn't sound convinced.

"Colonel, I doubt that anyone has been in this room since Hayes died. The dust in here is over an inch thick and the only footprints are ours." She grimaced. "Even my realtor didn't know about this room, and it's not in the plans of the house."

The Colonel stood up from where he had been looking at the remains of the still. "That's not surprising. Hayes probably had all traces of it removed from any building documents when he decided to start running an illegal liquor establishment. Pretty clever, actually."

He continued, thinking aloud. "I have some friends in the City Planning office. I'll ask Jeff to pull the files on your house and see if there's anything there in the early registries." He looked around again. "In the meantime, we ought to seal this off."

"It was just an old bolt that came loose."

"Yeah, a bolt that came loose inexplicably after staying intact for seventy years. Not buying it. We're sealing this off tonight."

"You're not going to let this alone, are you."

"Nope."

"It could have been anything. Just the reverberations from walking around upstairs could have made it come loose."

He stood silently, staring at her.

She sighed. "OK, we'll seal it off."

An hour later, they'd sealed it off to the Colonel's satisfaction. He checked the security one more time and then turned to look at her. "I better get going, Carter. It's after ten and we both need to be at the SGC tomorrow at 0600. Remember to turn on the security system when I leave."

She didn't say anything. He couldn't order her to do it, after all, could he? Nah, this was her house, her private life.

"Carter?"

"I am not turning on the system. I am level three --"

"Carter, I know that. Bear with me here, will ya?"

"You're overreacting. It was a loose bolt."

"So?"

She shook her head, refusing to give in this time. "No. This is ridiculous. You don't have a system at your house; you can't even remember to lock the door. And besides that, I do not intend to be woken up in the middle of the night because some stray cat has wandered onto my porch. Home security systems are notorious for being flakey."

"Griff's aren't."

Okay, now she really was getting annoyed with him. "And that's another thing. Why all the secrecy about Griff? And why did you ask him to get involved in my house?"

He grimaced. "Oh, that. Yeah. Well, Carter, the thing is that you work here."

"What?"

"I never work at home. You **wor**k here. Are your computers plugged into the SGC or not? And don't even bother to answer that, because if you told me they weren't I wouldn't believe you."

"The access is completely secure."

"That I do believe. Look, Sam, I know you're brilliant at this stuff. But I also knew how badly you wanted to get moved into the house and that you didn't have the time to do all the work yourself. I didn't want you to inadvertently cut corners, and Griff is the best there is. Besides, it couldn't hurt to have two brilliant brains working on the problem. And Griff would come at it from a hacker's perspective."

"So you asked him to help without consulting me?"

"Yes, I did, because I knew you'd say no if I did ask you. And I knew that you'd forget to put in a security system, although Griff wouldn't, because you'd think that securing your servers would be enough."

He sighed. "What I didn't predict was that you'd forget to turn the damned thing on once it was enabled and onsite."

"And so here we are."

He grimaced. "Yeah, here we are. Sam, I apologize for not consulting you about asking Griff for help. But I honestly thought you'd enjoy getting to know him."

She sighed. "I did. Apology accepted."

"And you'll turn on the system?"

"Jack --"

"What can it hurt? It's already installed and a few extra precautions when you're dealing with the safety of the galaxy can't be all that bad."

Damn. He had a point, but still. "Are you ordering me to turn it on?"

He shrugged. "I could. We are talking about the security of SGC data. But I'm not going to. I'm hoping you'll give in gracefully to my rampant paranoia. You know I'm a tad touchy when it comes to security."

She had to smile at that. He was well known to being on the close side of insane when it came to checking and rechecking security measures. "All right, you win. I'll turn it on. I suppose it can't hurt. But if some stupid cat wakes me up tonight, I'm going to send a requisition through tomorrow for the analyzer I need that's going to run close to the tune of 80 grand." She paused and looked at him calculatingly. "It will require a lot of justification."

"Ouch." He smiled. "And thank you."

He started heading up the stairs to the door, thinking. "I should check with Kazinski about what to do if the alarm does go off."

"Kazinski?"

"Colorado Springs police chief. He's a --"

"I know. A friend of yours."

He looked at her, surprised. "Right."

"Poker buddy."

"Well, yes." He was clearly wondering what that had to do with anything. She didn't enlighten him.

He cleared his throat. "Anyway, if the alarm does go off, he should probably contact the SGC."

"Oh, no. No, no, no. Absolutely not. I am not having the entire SGC aware of some stupid cat--"

"Carter, what is it with you and cats?"

She glared at his back. "I'm considering getting one. Preferably black. It'll add to the ambience of the place."

"Okay, sure. Anyway, --".

She broke in, determined to make her point. "No SGC. It's bad enough that the Police will end up out here, but at least they're used to false alarms."

"Carter."

"No."

"All right, then. Is it ok if he calls me? I'm just a block and a half way."

"No-- actually, yes. They can call you."

"Really?" He was clearly astonished that he'd won the point.

"Yes. Because then you'll end up awake as well when some stupid cat shows up at 2 a.m. and wakes up the entire neighborhood."

He laughed. "Fair enough. And thank you."

"But there will be no more talk of intruders and security, and all because of a stupid loose bolt. You can go back to comments about Hayes; clearly the ghost did it to welcome me."

He grinned again. "I promise, Carter. Ghosts it is. Besides, it has been a pretty busy weekend, what with gravestones, crypts, hidden rooms and loose bolts. Actually kinda cool. And you're right; clearly it was just Hayes having his say. It'll make for a great story at the SGC tomorrow."

"Oh, god, I've created a monster." She sighed, knowing it was inevitable that her "haunted house" would be the main topic of the SGC rumor mill tomorrow. She might as well just give in gracefully right now and get it over with. "Don't forget the cat."

"Carter, I'm just trying to help here." He smiled. "And I can't mention a cat until there actually is one. Possible cats don't count. Accuracy is important in ghost stories."

She sighed. "Of course it is."

He turned to look back at her as opened the door to leave. "Don't forget to bring the plans in tomorrow for the kitchen renovation. I'll check with Reynolds first thing. And turn on the security system." He must have caught her expression, because he looked confused. "What?"

She shook her head. "I'm just wondering how I ever managed before I met you, Colonel."

He smirked. "I've wondered about that too. Night, Carter."

She smiled as she closed the door and turned on the stupid security system. He really was managing, and difficult, and borderline manipulative, and sneaky, and sarcastic, and … damned if she wasn't enjoying herself. Yep, getting to know the Colonel was certainly interesting. She kind of liked the idea of "getting a life", if he was in it. And on that note, she firmly shut down her wayward thoughts and headed to bed. It was probable that she only had about four hours before some stupid cat was going to wake her up.

TBC..


	11. Chapter 11

11.

Sam hunkered down, determined to finish this stage of her project. Nearly noon. She'd been immersed in the plans for a naquadah generator all morning without interruption, which was nearly unheard of and somewhat surprising. She'd expected to get some teasing related to her house and its ghosts, but there'd been nothing. Not even Daniel had shown to ask what was up, and she hadn't seen the Colonel since last night. Clearly, he'd decided to not to spread any rumors and perhaps decided not to pursue his offer of helping her get the kitchen remodeled. Not unexpected, of course. It was a big project and he could hardly want to spend so much time on it. She sighed. Truth be told, she'd been looking forward to remodeling the kitchen, even at the expense of a few ghost stories. She put on her goggles and lit the welder. She had a few connections that needed soddering.

"Hey, Carter, what'cha -- whoa."

She jumped, startled at the hand on her shoulder, hearing the Colonel's comment after the fact. She turned off the welder as fast as she could, but it had still blackened the ceiling when she'd jerked her arms up in ready position, surprised.

"Well, there's a lesson."

"What?" She took off her goggles, still unnerved, and put the welder down on her workbench.

"Never surprise a woman with a welder."

She stared at the ceiling, inspecting the damage. "Yeah, not a good idea … sir."

"Yeah." He looked up. " Well, on the up side, it doesn't look like you've burned the place down. Just a slight singe on the ceiling."

She grimaced. Siler was not going to be particularly happy about that. But there was nothing she could do about it and she could always blame it on the Colonel. **That** Siler would understand.

She cocked her head at her CO. "Did you want something, sir? That is, besides having the fun of impersonating the orderly at 29?"

He grinned. "Remembered that story, huh? I like it myself. But for your information, Carter, I did not come here to deliberately startle you. I came to let you know that you have a lunch date."

"I do?"

"Yes. Or rather, we do here in your lab."

She stared at him, surprised. OK, maybe she had enjoyed the weekend and been wondering where he was all morning, but lunch alone with her CO on the base was bound to raise a lot of eyebrows. "Do you think that's good idea?"

He grinned. "I do. Jim Reynolds should be along any minute, as well as T and Danny. Jim wants to see your designs and I thought we could put together a plan for the week. Sellberg can't make it for lunch, but he agreed to turn off your gas in that part of the house and take care of the city inspections. And Fredrickson is on downtime this afternoon, but when I talked to him he said to count him in whenever. I told Jim today was BYOLFTC."

"BYOLFTC?"

He raised a bag he had in his left hand she hadn't noticed before. "Bring your own lunch from the commissary. I brought yours."

"I – thanks." She watched as he started moving equipment from one of her workbenches and put down the bag. "Let me do that, sir."

He smiled knowingly. "Sure thing, Carter." He picked up a lens. "What is this anyway?"

She grimaced. "The twenty thousand dollar adapter that came in last week for the microscope."

"Ack." He put it down gingerly. "Why isn't it over there?" He pointed to the microscope.

"Do you really want to know?"

"Nope."

"So you talked to them and they agreed to help?" She cleared the workbench for the impromptu lunch, feeling more cheerful by the minute.

"Yep. Very interested, in fact. T is positively giddy at the chance to tear something apart."

She tilted her head, questioningly.

He shrugged. "We haven't been off world in over a week. He's getting antsy. Besides, you know damn well that he and Daniel would do anything for you. Totally whipped, both of them."

"They are not."

He grinned and raised his eyebrows.

"OK, maybe, just maybe you might have a slight point."

He smiled. "As for Reynolds, he likes to keep his hand in designing architectural plans whenever possible seeing that he doesn't have much opportunity at the SGC. Sellberg owes me from his kitchen last year, and Fredrickson is in rehab due to a shoulder injury and bored out of his mind. He practically thanked me when I asked if he was interested."

"Nice." She grinned. "Sounds like you've been busy, sir. Thank you."

"Not a problem, Carter. I told you they'd be willing to help. That must be Jim now." He walked over to the lab door, responding to the knock, and opened it.

"So, I assume you guys know each other?" The Colonel gestured vaguely. As an introduction it wasn't much, but it was typical of the Colonel.

"Captain."

"Major." She nodded. "I appreciate your help on my remodel. And it's Sam."

Reynolds smiled. "Sure, Sam. Call me Jim. Now let me see what you have in mind." When Teal'c and Daniel walked in fifteen minutes later they were already immersed in the project.

Forty-five minutes later Reynolds looked up from the plans. "Looks good. I'll rearrange the cabinets on the architectural drawings to what we discussed and redo the lighting. I assume Griff's handling the electrical?"

"Yep."

"Colonel, I haven't checked with him."

"I did, Carter, and he's on board, pro bono. He did the rest of the house. He'd be insulted if you hired someone else."

"Ah. Well, thanks."

Reynolds continued. "I'll need to see the space tonight to make sure the measurements are correct. SG4's scheduled off world on Wednesday and Thursday, but I can file preliminary plans tomorrow with the city, and barring any problems, you could start demolition tomorrow evening if Sellberg can turn off the gas and run the review through the city office. Is Jeff on board, Jack? Because if he is, I can let him know we can file the final plans on Saturday. I can finish them up Friday and let you see them Friday night."

"Who's Jeff?" Sam interrupted. It was her house, after all.

"Colorado Springs City Planner, Carter. He agreed to push the paperwork through quickly."

"Friend of yours."

"Yeah."

"Poker buddy."

The Colonel looked at her strangely. "Do you have a problem with poker, Carter?"

"I – no, not really." Technically, that was true. It wasn't the game that was at issue.

The Colonel shrugged. "Okaayy…anyway, I called Jeff this morning to let him know about the remodel. Also asked him to check into whether the city had any blueprints on record for the house, particularly from the early days. He promised an answer by this afternoon. He should be calling any time now." He stopped and changed topics. "In any case, Teal'c, Fredrickson, and you and I, Carter, could start demolition tomorrow. Should be done by Friday if your house follows the usual plan."

"I cannot participate in demolition on Wednesday, O'Neill. I have promised to observe young Carolyn and Jason Aluki."

"Babysitting, Teal'c?"

"Indeed. It is Major Aluki's tenth wedding anniversary. I have promised to escort young Jason to the bowling facility. Young Carolyn also agreed to this proposal."

The Colonel paused, thinking. "You could -- nah, you're right, T, you shouldn't bring them. Jay and Caro shouldn't be anywhere near Carter's when we're tearing it apart, seeing that they're what… eight and ten, now, I think. We'll just need to find a substitute for Wednesday night."

Daniel broke in. "Hey, what about me? I'm willing to help here."

"You're going to be busy, Daniel."

"I am?"

The Colonel smiled. "Yep."

"Doing what?" Daniel's voice sounded distinctly suspicious.

"Research. We need to know everything there is to know about Henry Hayes and Goblin Manor."

Daniel looked at him curiously. "And this is because?"

"Didn't I mention it?"

"No."

"Carter's house is haunted."

Daniel shook his head. "Oh, c'mon, Jack, enough."

Sam broke in. "That's exactly what I've been saying. Thank you, Daniel."

"Carter, you're welching on the deal. You said I could talk about the ghosts."

She sighed, and gestured for him to continue.

"Carter's got two gravestones from 1886, we think, and a crypt on her property. Don't know where the bodies are buried. And last night, the ghost knocked down some glasses on a shelf in the hidden room in the cellar."

"A bolt came loose from reverberations."

"Details, Carter."

"There's a hidden room in the cellar?" Daniel was clearly mystified.

"Yeah, we found it last night. It's not on the building plans." He gestured to the blueprints spread out on the workbench. "Right about here. Hayes must have had the plans cleansed when he put in his speak-easy during Prohibition."

"Wow." Daniel was clearly interested. "So, when did you discover all this?"

"I told you, Daniel, this weekend."

Daniel looked amused. "When exactly?"

The Colonel scowled at him. "I offered to help Carter clean up the property. Neighborly thing and all. We found the crypt and the stones. We ate dinner. The ghost interrupted and shattered glasses on a shelf."

She broke in again. "A bolt came loose from the wall."

He continued. "IN the hidden room in the cellar. While checking out the noise, we found the room."

Daniel grinned. "I see. And so you want me to research Hayes and the history of Sam's house."

"Already said that, Daniel. And that's **all** I need you to stick your… investigate."

"Investigating sounds interesting."

The Colonel looked exasperated. "Thank you, Daniel. Now, if we could just get back to the --." His cell phone rang, and he answered. "O'Neill."

"Jeff, yeah, thanks for getting back to me." He paused. "Both of them? Sounds unusual." Another pause. "I don't see what else you can do. Could have been missing for years." Pause. "Yeah, Jim's on it. He says he'll have preliminaries for you tomorrow and finals on Saturday." Pause. "Yeah, Sellberg will bring that in tomorrow." Pause. "Sure. Anytime. Just give me a call. Thanks, Jeff."

He hung up, thinking. "That's interesting."

Jim looked up from the plans, curious. "What's going on, Jack?"

"It's more what isn't. Carter, the plans for Goblin Manor are missing from the City offices."

She shrugged. "Not surprising. We did think that Hayes must have removed them when he built the speak-easy."

"Maybe. But Jeff says that when the city went through a re-indexing project five years ago to automate their records, all of the building plans from when Colorado Springs was incorporated to present were inventoried. The database lists two sets of pre -1900 drawings for Hayes House. They're both missing. Your current plans are there and on file."

"They could have misplaced them when they were doing the inventory," Daniel suggested.

"It's possible, I suppose."

"Or Hayes could have taken them in the 20s, like we thought, and the indexing wasn't double checked against the inventory." Sam broke in again.

The Colonel shrugged, clearly giving up. "Or the ghost took them."

Daniel grinned. "Sounds like your ghost sure gets around, Jack."

"Sam's ghost, and yeah, apparently he does." But to Sam's eye, he didn't look all that amused at the thought.

The Colonel, Jim and Teal'c cleared out of her lab shortly after. Daniel, however, stayed after they'd left. He cleared up the lunch workbench way too slowly for it to be anything except an excuse to talk to her alone.

She sighed. "OK, they're gone. Let's have it, Daniel. What's on your mind?"

He looked over at her, considering. "Sounds like you and Jack spent a lot of time together this weekend."

She didn't want to hear what she knew was coming. Vague warning, most likely, couched in concern. But there was nothing to be concerned about. It was all perfectly innocent and she be damned if she was going to let Daniel spoil the fun.

"Look, Daniel, I know it might look strange, but --"

He interrupted her. "That's just it, Sam. It doesn't. It isn't."

"What?"

"Jack's helped a lot of people out, Jim and the guys included. No one's going to think anything of it. I thought you ought to know. It's his usual modus operandi with SGC folk. And the fact that you're under his command overrides the fact you're a woman in this case. They'd expect him to help out if you had a problem. "

"I – really?"

"Yeah."

"So… not going to create any gossip?"

"The opposite, I suspect. They'll just see it as part of the standard 'O'Neill treatment' when there's a problem to solve."

"And what's that?"

Daniel thought for a while before responding. "It varies depending upon the situation, I suppose. In my case, you know what happened. Jack dragged me back from Abydos when Share was taken and put me up in his house until he was sure I had it together. In Teal'c's case, he made sure that he was part of the SGC culture, part of the community."

"You know, I didn't even know Teal'c knew Aluki, let alone babysat his kids."

Daniel shrugged. "Teal'c's off base most nights, doing something with other members in the SGC. He just sleeps on base now."

"There are regs related to his being in public."

Daniel grimaced. "Yeah, but not if he's with a member of the SGC. Jack made sure of that. I suspect they're stretching the regs a bit with the babysitting, seeing as Aluki won't be there."

"I didn't know."

Daniel continued. "As for Reynolds and Hendrickson, I think it's their business, not mine, to tell you their stories, but they each have a personal reason to want to help Jack."

"So you're saying he helps people out when they need something?"

"Yeah, I guess I am."

She shook her head, thinking. "I wouldn't think he was the type. He seems like a loner, fairly aloof."

"He's also a Colonel. And looking out for his men is pretty much drummed into his character. Remember Kalwalsky?"

"Yeah. I see what you mean. But what does this have to do with me?"

Daniel shrugged. "Just thought you should know that that's who he is and what he does. And that there are a lot of people who care a lot about Jack and his well-being."

"Including you."

Daniel stared at her. "Including me and a lot of people, Sam. I care about you both. I just want to be sure everyone's on the same page."

She stared back, serious. "Spit it out and get it over with, Daniel."

"Jack's had a tough time in the past. I wouldn't want to see him hurt again."

"I can't believe this. Are you warning me off my CO? Because I can assure you that I am not planning on --"

"Sam, no. You've missed my point, or maybe I said it badly. I'm not warning you off of anything, in fact, the opposite. I care about you both. I think it's great that you're both having fun with the house. And it's not going to cause any gossip because that's what Jack…does. Just… watch your step. Sometimes it's easy to loose your footing in uncharted territory."

She sighed. It wasn't like there was anything in what he was saying that she hadn't already told herself but she still didn't like his interference, no matter how well intentioned. "You know me and cliffs, Daniel. I'm always careful. Remember P3X749?"

Daniel had nearly fallen off a cliff on P3X749 because he'd been looking at the vista instead of concentrating on the trail. He'd tripped on a rock and nearly slid down the ledge. She'd been behind him, and had just managed to catch him in time.

He grinned. "Touche. I'll keep my eyes down and my head out of the clouds. Well, I'm glad we had this little chat."

She raised her eyebrows to the ceiling, incredulous.

Daniel coughed, hiding his full-blown smile, which was probably healthy seeing that she really would like to kill him at the moment. "I'll see you later, Sam. Have fun with the house… and with Jack."

She watched as he left, exasperated. Damn Daniel anyway. The situation was totally innocent. It had to be. And Daniel must know that. What was it that he had been trying to tell her anyway?

Hell with it. The generator was easier to decipher, and she had to break a few of the known laws of physics to do that.

TBC…


	12. Chapter 12

12.

Jim Reynolds arrived at her house around eight that evening. A tall, burley man with a shock of red hair and blue eyes, his hands full of blueprints and architectural drawings, he came barreling through the door as she opened it, cheerfully acknowledging her greeting.

"Hey, Sam. Jack here yet?"

She let him in the house and took his coat, putting it on a set of antique hooks built into the wall by the door. "He had a report to finish for Hammond. He said he'd be by around 8:30. Thanks for coming and thanks for doing this. I--"

He grinned and cut her off. " Not a problem. Looking forward to it. I haven't worked on a historical renovation in a while. I like to keep my hand in and work like this helps keep me up to date and board-certified."

He changed the subject, clearly interested in her project and ready to start work. "And knowing Jack and reports, he'll probably show around ten at the earliest so no point in waiting. Let's take a look at -- whoah." He stared at the entrance to the living room. "Interesting color choice."

She grimaced. "Yeah. It's unique. Wait until you see the kitchen."

He grinned. "Oh, definitely looking forward to it."

She led him toward the back of the house. "Seriously, Jim, it's in pretty bad shape."

"Not surprising. But if there are no structural problems, interior work will be easy enough to – wow." He stopped short at the entrance to the kitchen, staring.

She grimaced, looking around at the orange walls and 30-odd year old avocado appliances, what there were of them. "Yeah, I know. I think it's one step past 'needs help'."

He shook his head. "No, Sam. That's not what I meant. This room has great bones. The blueprints don't do it justice."

"You can say that again." She started to comment further on the décor, but Jim was already walking around, inspecting the room. He focused first on the old cast iron stove sitting to the left of the current refrigerator location. "This is original; wood burning. It's in good shape. I'd keep it. It's a classic and can be refinished."

"I – all right."

He wandered the room, inspecting everything structural. "These cabinets are original; look at the glass insets." He took out a knife from his pocket and scraped at the paint, revealing the wood underneath. "Cherry. Hayes must have imported it from the East. You have to keep these as well. They just need refinishing and we can take out this portion and move them over there to make room for the oven." He moved through the room. "Soap-stone sink, must have cost a fortune even in 1880. Stained, but again, that can be fixed. And – yeah, I thought so." He pried up a section of the counter top. "There's marble underneath here. It's been covered over. Hayes' servants probably used it as a pastry counter top."

"So you don't think we should just gut the room and start over?"

He looked at her like she was nuts. "No. Absolutely not. When it's restored, this room will be spectacular." He leaned over and pulled off one of the old linoleum floor tiles that had come loose. "Cherry floors, as well. Hayes didn't spare any expense in this place. Looks like the wood's been protected; it's in fairly good shape. We'll have to see if it can be refinished, once you get the grunge out of here."

He looked up at her from his position, crouching on the floor. Her expression must have given away that she wasn't convinced because he stood up and grabbed his sketch pad. "Sam, I'm serious. It's a beautiful room. Here, let me sketch out what I see."

She watched, stunned, as his vision came to life. "You really think we can do that?"

He grinned. "Yep. I do. Like I said, the bones are all here."

"The sketch is amazing, Jim. You have an incredible talent. I couldn't see it."

He shrugged. "It's already here. And it's not like it's rocket science, Sam. That's your look out. You're the one saving asses. I just 'see' design and help people work out what they'd like to see functionally that fits with that. I'm not exactly from the architectural school of 'form follows function' but I do see the point. So, more to the point here, is there anything you'd like to change before I start putting together the final plans?"

She paused, thinking. "Any chance we could put in an island? Like the one in the Colonel's house? There's a lot of space in the center that's going to waste and it wouldn't be that hard to bring in gas and electric to that part of the room, given the backbone I've had put in since I moved in."

He looked around. "I wouldn't recommend it. There's no way that you could match the wood exactly in this room, or the marble for that matter, and to put in anything of lesser quality would be criminal. Besides, strictly speaking, if we do this correctly, this is closer to a restoration than a renovation. Sure, you're going to be living here, and modern appliances need to go in, but I'd recommend you keep as close to the original design as possible. A better solution would be a large table in the center; it's probably what was here originally, and where the servants ate."

She looked around the space suspiciously. "Big table. Very, very, very big table. As in the table that ate New York."

He grinned. "Well, yeah. King Kong size table at the least. Still, it's a better solution than an island, like Jack's place. That works well there, but his house doesn't have the history that this one does."

She looked at him curiously. "Is that how you got to know the Colonel? Working on his renovation?"

"In a way." He looked down at his drawing and then back at her. "Jack's a good man."

She smiled. "Yes, he is. He's a great CO."

He shrugged and looked at her strangely. "I wouldn't know; haven't had the chance to serve under him directly, except that he's the second for the base. Strikes me as the kind of guy who might be tough in the field. But he is a good man." He turned back to the drawing.

"How did you-- sorry." She caught herself. SGC folks were, by necessity, reticent about their relationships and connections. She swallowed. "I didn't mean to be intrusive. Daniel mentioned you had a connection with the Colonel and I guess I was curious. Sorry."

He looked up again. "Jackson mentioned that?" When she shook her head, agreeing, not sure what she should say, he commented, "Knowing Jackson he must have had his reasons."

She had absolutely no idea how to respond to that, so she stayed silent.

Jim came to some sort of decision, however, and finally looked up from the drawing he was staring at again, and smiled at her. "The story's not that interesting or unusual, Sam. Although it was to me at the time."

He paused and then continued, swallowing. "You might not know this, but I came to the SGC because Charlie Kawalsky recommended me. I was on his… anyway. Doesn't matter. When Charlie died, things, people were rearranged. I was supposed to be part of SG2 back then. And the SGC was new; hell, no one knew how to deal with it. We'd all been part of Special Ops in the past, so were used to keeping things quiet. But this, this was more than that."

He sighed. "My wife's name is Linda. Anyway, she was used to 'quiet', but this was so quiet that she started pulling back. Or, hell, maybe I did. I don't know. Anyway, when things were really bad and she finally kicked me out, Jack showed up one day in the locker room, pulled me back together, and gave me place to stay. For nearly five weeks. And put up with all of it. In the end, he even talked to Linda. And things got better from there."

His expression was closed, and then he smiled. "We've got a one year old, and another on the way right now."

He looked back at her, his expression serious again. "So, I owe him, even though he doesn't think so. He's a good man."

She choked, and agreed. "Yes, he is. Thanks for telling me the story." She smiled. "You have any pictures? I'd love to see them."

He grinned, and pulled out his wallet. And they spent the next half-hour together, she hearing his stories of his family, he remembering. Sam loved it.

Jim, however, finally got a bit embarrassed, or at least that's what it seemed. He grinned, apologetic. "Sam, Jack's going to shoot both of us if we don't get this plan nailed. Grab the end of the tape, will you? I want to measure the space from the cabinets to the end of the room."

And so they did. Two hours later, Sam had her head under the sink, her body on the floor, holding the tape for Jim, focused on verifying the dimensions on the floor plan.

"Carter, you forgot to –"

"Ouch."

She jerked up, hitting her head on the pipes above her. "Damn it. Will you stop --"

Oh, hell. She'd responded automatically, focused on the problem, not remembering they had an audience. OK, **so** not good. She needed to watch herself. She pushed out from under the cabinet. Even though Jim was facing the other direction, she could see his eyebrows rising to the top of his head.

She tried to retrieve the situation. "Sorry, sir. You surprised me."

The Colonel scowled, still focused. "I wouldn't be doing that, Carter, if you'd lock your door and set the alarm. Even I have my limits."

She bristled. "I was expecting you and Jim was—never mind." She shut up, not wanting to give Jim any more fodder for thought. The man was looking amused enough as it was.

"Yeah. Well, it's locked now." The Colonel turned to his friend. "So what do you think, Jim?"

Jim grinned. "Oh, I have a few thoughts on any number of subjects." When the Colonel scowled again, Jim shrugged. "But if you're talking about the kitchen, I'd say it's a winner. The cabinets are cherry, so is the floor. Sink's soapstone. Marble counter top by the sink."

The Colonel brightened, clearly diverted. "Cool." He pointed toward the west wall of the room, part of which was window, the rest paneled in cheap 1960 grunge. "Have you checked what's behind the paneling yet?"

"Nope. I was waiting for you. Thought you might like to be in on the fun."

Sam interrupted; slightly horrified at the turn the conversation had taken. "Are you saying there's something behind that paneling? Because I already have one hidden room; that seems like enough."

"Carter, it's probably not a hidden room." There it was, his "calming the horses" tone again.

She wasn't buying it this time. "Then what?"

"It's most likely a fireplace. There should be one in here, given when the house was built. 'Course, given Goblin Manor's record to date, there might be a hidden staircase instead. We haven't run into one of those yet."

"Funny, sir."

He grinned. "Do you have a crowbar? It's going to take some muscle to get that paneling off."

She groaned and went to hunt her crowbar. An hour later, a lot of muscle, and a lot of grumbling from the Colonel, they were done. It had honestly been a lot of fun.

"Wow." She stared at the opening. The fireplace in the kitchen was gorgeous.

Jim grinned. "Yeah. Nice stonework. Most of it is granite. Hayes must have quarried it in the mountains and brought it down."

Sam came back down to reality, looking at the scene with homeowner's eyes, or at least she hoped she had them. And thought about the work she now needed to do because they'd uncovered the wall.

She sighed. "Yep, very enlightening. My favorite's the dead rat's nest."

The Colonel looked up from where he was poking through the debris in the fireplace, considering her comment. "No rats. Mice probably. Maybe a few bats."

He knocked on the inside wall. "And I'm sorry to disappoint you, Carter, but there's no hidden staircase. This wall is solid stone."

"I'm crushed." She grinned; she couldn't help it.

Jim smiled and stood up, wiping his hands on his jeans. "In any case, I have enough to draw the plans. And there's plenty for you to do to get the place ready for renovation."

Sam sighed. "Yep. Seems like enough. We need to tear out all the old appliances. Clean out, re-grout, and polish the fireplace and re-plaster the wall around it. Take off the cabinet faces and strip them. Remove the linoleum, and then repair and refinish the floor."

The Colonel stood up, looking around the room, grinning. "Should be a piece of cake. And you forgot that we need to tear out the counter tops, Carter."

She smiled. "Sorry; minor detail and all. It slipped my mind."

Jim grinned. "Watch out for the marble, Jack. And take out the sink. We can send it off to Colorado Stone Works to be refinished. And take out the cabinet bases on the east wall. We'll need that for new appliances…to here." Jim pointed at a break in the cabinets.

"Will do."

Jim looked around, assessing her kitchen one last time. "I better get going. Linda's expecting me home and SG4's off-world tomorrow."

He paused, diverted, suddenly silent, his attention caught by something outside the windows next to the fireplace.

"Sam, are you expecting anyone else?"

"No, why?"

"I – probably nothing. There were some lights out back; I thought they were headed this way."

"Where?" Both she and the Colonel moved to the window, scanning the scene. The Colonel had turned off the lights in the room to see the exterior outside, but there was nothing.

Jim shrugged. "It's gone now. It was over there, by the aspens." He pointed toward the west side of her property, towards the aspen grove.

"That's the end of the property. There's a small stonewall that marks the line. Was it beyond that?"

He looked back into the yard, toward the area where she was gesturing. "Hard to tell this time of night. Anyway, it is gone, whatever it was." He pulled on his jacket, changing the subject. "I'm probably just a little too alert for on-world activities. We just got back from P3X772 and it takes a while to come down. Sorry."

He changed the subject. "Anyway, I should have the finals ready for you to look at Friday night, Sam, unless my team gets waylaid on P3 whatever tomorrow."

"Thanks, Jim."

The Colonel broke in before she could finish. "Bring the plans by my place, Jim, and bring Linda along. OK with you, Carter? We'll probably both need a break from take-out dinners and demolition by then."

"I – yes, that would be great. Thanks, sir."

She waited for some sort of comment from Jim, but he didn't even raise an eyebrow. "Will do, Jack. Thanks. Night, Sam."

"I'll see you out, Jim."

When she came back into the kitchen, the Colonel was standing in darkness, staring out the window.

"Anything?"

"No. Nothing. Nothing at all."

She shrugged. "It was probably just a neighbor."

"Could be."

He turned from the window to look at her. "I better head out."

Sam interrupted, not wanting to end the evening, even though it was late. She'd seen another side of the Colonel tonight from Jim's eyes, and one she wanted to know better. "Night cap, sir? I've got some 12-year-old single malt scotch straight from the Isles. Talisker."

He grinned. "You're corrupting me, Carter."

"I wish." Oh hell, she'd said that aloud. How could she have actually been so stupid to say that aloud? Jeez. "I didn't—"

His eyes were twinkling as he broke in. "Sounds like a plan."

TBC…


	13. Chapter 13

13.

Sam grinned, thinking, as she started getting ready for the Thursday evening onslaught. The last two evenings renovating her kitchen had been fun; and she could swear that over half of the SGC had wandered in and out of her house in the process. She'd certainly bought enough Chinese, pizza and beers to verify the supposition.

It was amazing what they'd managed to accomplish. They'd torn out the appliances and removed the linoleum flooring and stripped the cabinet doors, both of which revealed a rich deep cherry wood underneath. They'd actually managed to refinish both. The fireplace was gleaming, the stone polished, the flue cleaned out and the wall around it nearly repaired. Some work on the latter still needed to be done, but not much. Still, what they **had** accomplished really was incredible.

She thought back again, reviewing the last two days.

Sellberg had shown up early Tuesday and shut off the gas. He'd stayed around to help. Teal'c and Fredrickson had shown up as well. On Wednesday, Fredrickson had brought along the entirety of SG17, seeing as his shoulder was still stiff and they were behind on Jack's schedule of having most of the place gutted and structural repairs complete by Friday evening.

She grinned. Evidently, she wasn't the only one who was used to finding ways to meet the Colonel's impossible deadlines.

She'd discovered another side to the Colonel, one she would never have predicted. Off duty, he was relaxed and causal, joking with SG17 and the rest of the SGC that had wandered in and out. Oh, he was still gruff, and still was very much in charge, but somehow when he was off duty, he was less sharp around the edges and smiled a lot more easily.

She grinned. If he ever wanted a real day job, he'd make a hell of a general contractor. Projects moved smoothly when he was around; tasks were ordered and sequenced. All in all, she probably shouldn't be surprised considering that he was a Colonel and used to effectively organizing people on missions far more critical than renovating her kitchen.

But she really hadn't understood how he applied those managerial skills at work until now, as she saw how casually but carefully he was orchestrating her renovation, making the whole process run smoothly but seem like fun. She hadn't understood how he used those skills at the SGC, how essential he was to the fabric of making the SGC run well. She'd been focused on his role on SG1 as team leader, on the science, on how he ordered the experiences the four of them had in the field.

Now she realized what it was that he did as the SGC second.

As for her house, she felt a little badly about not being more in control. She should probably insist on doing more, given that it **was **her house, but it was obvious that he was enjoying himself a lot. She didn't have the heart to break into his fun.

Besides, she was enjoying herself as well, although for different reasons. She grimaced. She was probably enjoying it a lot more than she should be, because for her the most pleasant part of the evening was after everyone had left except the Colonel. They'd taken to sitting in her living room at the end of the evening, sipping her scotch and discussing the day's events, both at the SGC and her house. He was a complex and interesting man, although he kept that part of himself fairly well hidden. But in the evenings, when there were just the two of them, she'd begun to see more of what actually made up the man.

She sighed, thinking. It turned out that the precipice she was living on had a steeper edge than she thought. She'd better watch her balance and make sure she didn't make any false steps or she was headed for serious trouble. On the other hand… uh…foot, she was having a great time and she was still in control. Her off-time interactions with the Colonel were all destined to end eventually anyway when the remodel was done, so she might as well enjoy them while she could. And keep the scotch well stocked.

So, yes, the week had been surprising and a lot of fun. Sure, there'd been some odd incidents in the house; items mysteriously moved; tables relocated. She sighed. That was all most likely just someone in the SGC's odd sense of humor once they'd heard the Colonel's tale of her ghost. They were clearing amusing themselves at her expense and SGC was famous for practical jokes. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. Particularly the Colonel. His totally above board innocent expression hid a truly devious mind. Yep, if she were a betting woman, she'd place a lot of bucks on his ability to mysteriously move objects in a ghostly fashion. And then she rejected the thought as unworthy. He was helping her with the house, and he was overly concerned, in her opinion, about security. If someone was playing a joke, it probably wasn't the Colonel.

Besides, even an SGC practical joker didn't explain the other odd incidents.

The first had occurred on Tuesday evening. It had been raining steadily all day, the skies grey and dark. The fog had settled in at dusk; nearly unheard of weather in Colorado's dry climate.

Teal'c had been the first to arrive Tuesday, having been dropped off by Daniel. He came through the door soaked, the rain pouring down in buckets, as only Colorado storms could.

He removed his raincoat, placing it carefully on the peg on her wall. "Captain Carter, are you expecting persons other than members of the SGC this evening?"

"Not that I know of, Teal'c. Why?"

"There was an individual approximately 50 feet from the stone wall on the western edge of your property watching the house. He disappeared when I observed him. I investigated, but was unable to locate him."

"Huh. Well, maybe it was the neighbor on that side being nosey. There has been a lot of traffic through here the last few days. He's probably just curious."

Teal'c looked at her strangely. "Perhaps. I find it odd, however, that he should choose to assuage his curiosity in a storm of this magnitude, with his vision obscured by fog, and then disappear when the opportunity to resolve his questions arose."

She shrugged. "He may have been embarrassed. And…you may not realize it, Teal'c, but you can look kind of intimidating at times."

He considered her silently. "Have you met your neighbor?"

"Uhh…that'd be a 'no'. Haven't had time."

"Perhaps you will be able to find an opportune moment to do so soon. In the meantime, I believe we should mention this incident to O'Neill."

She grimaced. "Teal'c, I'd really prefer it if we kept this between ourselves. The Colonel's been a little...insistent about my maintaining security around the place since we found the cellar room."

"And you would prefer that he is not provided with additional ammunition to support his position."

"Well, yeah. You know how he can… well. Anyway, I promise I'll keep an eye out for anything unusual. What did the guy look like?"

"I was unable to see him adequately, but he was blonde, mustached, slender, and half a head shorter than Daniel Jackson. His clothing was dark and nondescript. He wore glasses."

"Doesn't sound like anyone familiar."

"Indeed."

She knew that "indeed". It meant he wasn't happy about the situation. "Teal'c, we're on Earth, for heaven's sake. It's unlikely that we're going to run into any kind of serious problem in the Springs. And even if there was one, I can take care of it. It's my **home**."

He stared back at her. She could see it in his expression when he reluctantly agreed. "I understand, Captain Carter. You wish to resolve the situation independently. I will refrain from mentioning the incident to O'Neill for now."

She grinned. "Thanks, Teal'c. I appreciate it."

Teal'c had kept his word and she'd forgotten about the incident until the following evening. She had just gotten home from work, her mind on the upcoming evening's arrangements. It was storming again, the wind blowing relentlessly through the trees, blowing down the aspen leaves, the rain sleeting down through them. She'd put her hand on the doorknob, grateful to be on the porch and out of the storm, and then looked up quickly, some sixth sense warning her that she was being watched.

The stranger was there in the dusk where Teal'c had first seen him, barely visible through the fog, staring, almost beckoning. She started towards him, but then stopped, startled.

Something rustled in the bushes next to the porch. She stared down, distracted. An animal scuttled out of the brush, tearing towards the stranger. When she looked up again, both the apparition and the animal were gone.

She thought about the sequence of events. On Monday, there'd been the lights Jim had noticed. Then, on Tuesday and Wednesday, in the middle of terrific storms, the stranger had appeared. And both times, he'd been standing about where Jim had seen lights flickering on Monday evening. She grimaced. It was flat out strange."

She stopped the thought and shrugged mentally. Most likely, as she had explained to Teal'c, the man was a nosey neighbor being difficult. And only Jim had seen the lights. Of course, in the rain and the fog they'd been having, lights wouldn't have been visible anyway.

She glanced out the window at the evening. There was no stranger to be seen, and no lights apparent tonight. The storm had finally broken. It was a crisp, cold evening, the stars shining, the moon nearly full, a clear sharp light on the landscape. She quit wondering about errant neighbors, and started focusing. She had about half and hour before Jack, Teal'c and Fredrickson and all of SG17 were due to show.

Four hours later, they'd finished the demolition and Teal'c, Fredrickson and the crew had left for the night. She couldn't believe it, but the room was ready. They were a day ahead of the Colonel's schedule of finishing by Friday night. Griff was scheduled to show on Saturday to rewire the kitchen. And then the plan was to install the countertops and the appliances. She smiled, thinking about the days ahead. It would be fun to see Griff again.

Of course, she still had to **buy** appliances and get them delivered before they could put them in, but the Colonel must have some sort of plan for that. She stopped suddenly, thinking.

Huh. She was getting a little too laze fair about the situation. She ought to know what he had planned. She reviewed what she did know. The sink had been sent off to Colorado Stone Works and was due back in the middle of the week; the cast iron stove had been sent out and was due back next Friday. She'd better ask the Colonel about the rest. He was still at the house, settling into her living room.

She turned off the temporary kitchen lights they'd installed and headed into where Jack was pouring them both a late night scotch.

"Do you have a plan about buying appliances, sir? Because I think we're about ready to --"

He grinned and interrupted, handing her a scotch. "Of course I have a plan, Carter. I have a Plan A **and** a Plan B. And it's Jack."

She smiled back and took a drink. "And a Plan C and a Plan…"

"Nope."

"No?"

"I leave Plan C and D to you. That's your job."

She grinned. "Okay, I can handle that, I think. But in order to be completely clear, I was wondering what plan A might be."

"Easy enough. I – damn."

"Sir?"

He was searching his pockets. "I must have left my keys in the kitchen. I could have sworn I left them on the table in here. I'll be right back." He handed her his drink and headed to the back of the house. She set it down and then settled down in the Mies chair, waiting.

"Carter?"

"Yeah?"

"You want to come back here? And keep the lights off."

She headed back into the kitchen, curious about what he'd found. She stopped suddenly when she entered the room. The lights were back, flickering on the edge of her property, barely visible. "Weird."

He agreed. "I'd say. I cleaned out that side of the property and the brush. There's nothing there."

"Do you see the slight guy anywhere?"

"**What** guy?" The Colonel sounded exasperated.

Oops. Damn. She backtracked. "Um, sorry. Probably forgot to mention it. Teal'c thought he saw someone over there on Tuesday, and I think I saw him last night. About 5'8", 150, blonde, mustache."

"Someone's been lurking around the property and you forgot to mention it?"

She bristled. "It is my house, sir. Besides, it's probably just the neighbor."

He sighed and looked back out the window into the black night. The lights were gone. "Whatever it is, it's not there now. You have any flashlights? Let's check it out."

They headed out into the darkness. The storms of the last few days had lowered the temperature and increased the humidity. The ground was still wet; unusual for Colorado's dry climate, which typically absorbed water like a sponge even after days of rain. She could see her breath crystallize, the stars glistening down on them, shining through the still of the night. She rubbed her hands against the chill and followed the Colonel as he headed out towards the location where he'd seen the lights.

The Colonel hunkered down, staring at the ground. "There's nothing here."

She squatted next to him on her haunches. "Yeah, I know. I already said that."

"Carter, you're missing the point. There's literally nothing here, no tracks, no footprints. No one's been here in a while, at least since the rain began on Tuesday. Footprints would have tracked; ours have." He pointed his flashlight beam on the ground behind them.

She considered his words. "We might have incorrectly calculated the location. It's hard to see anything, let alone estimate distance correctly, in the fog and rain we've had, and now in the darkness. The lights and whoever's shining them may have been further away than we predicted, over on the other end of the neighbor's property." She stopped, thinking. "I should probably go meet him and find out what's going on."

The Colonel stood up, dusting his hand on his jeans. "You could, although I doubt you'll get any answers that way. Whoever it is hardly seems like the friendly type." He clearly didn't buy into her neighbor idea.

"But—"

He continued. "Besides, it's going to have to wait. SG4 got back today as scheduled so Jim is back and he and his wife are planning on dinner at my place tomorrow. It'll have to wait. Besides, it's after 11 now."

"OK. I suppose I could look into it this weekend."

"You're picking appliances this weekend."

"I am?"

"Yep. Plan A."

"Oh. Uh, okay, sure."

He grinned. "Don't worry about it, Carter. Like I said, I have a plan. And it's damned cold out here and there's nothing to see right now. Let's head inside and finish the whiskey."

She smiled. "Works for me."

TBC…


	14. Chapter 14

14.

Late Friday night, Sam finally wandered home, amused, thinking about the events of the evening as she walked the short way back between the Colonel's house and hers. The full moon lit the sidewalk making the walk easy, the air was clean and brisk, and the fragrance of wet pine invaded her senses. The stars were beckoning and intense. All and all, it was a classic Colorado fall evening, spent leaves covering her path, rustling as she walked. The cold front that had come in had changed the color of the trees overnight. The three-story high, hundred year old maples that had been planted by early Springs residents were a glorious deep red, the oaks competing for attention in their brilliant scarlet and orange. Added to the gold of the early fallen aspen leaves, a magical carpet to begin, it made for a spectacular display, even in the darkness when lit by just the moon and the starlight.

She thought back on the evening. The Colonel definitely knew how to cook, and not just breakfast. Dinner had been excellent. Who'd have thought? She wondered when he'd found the time to learn, given that he'd been out of the country for most of his adult life on missions only he and the Air Force brass knew where.

And all had gone as planned, at least as far as her house was concerned. Jim, just back from a successful mission on P3C799, had managed to come through with the final architectural plans he had promised. And she'd enjoyed meeting Jim's wife, Linda, who was a charming woman, kind and calm, and who had a clear liking for the Colonel.

She turned into her front yard and stopped dead, staring at the shadow on the front porch. It wasn't possible. She had to be hallucinating. Had to be. She should have refused the last glass of wine at the Colonel's place, or something. This was just not possible. She closed her eyes and then opened them, blinked, and then blinked again.

"You have got to be kidding me."

The cat looked back at her suspiciously, clearly declaring her porch as his property. His hair up, bristled, it was also obvious that he was disdainful about her contesting ownership of the place, and was ready disagree even with her claim that she should be permitted access into what he obviously considered his private space. Yeah, she could tell from its expression.

Okay, this was a little too … convenient. She'd been grumping about cats arriving on her porch just days ago, and now one suddenly appeared. "Funny, sir."

She waited for his answer or an end of the joke. But there was nothing; no one. It was completely quiet. All she could hear was the wind gusting, whistling through the trees.

"Jim? Harry?"

Silence. The cat jumped up on the porch banister, watching as she approached.

She stopped at the bottom step and peered up at him. He was grey, not black, as she would have expected if it had been a joke. Yep, he was grey with white paws and a spot on his chest. His hair was long and matted, and he was scrawny and young, not much more than a juvenile. His green eyes followed her as she began to climb the stairs towards him, now curious.

"So, who are you and why have you decided to land on my doorstep?"

The cat ignored her comments.

Huh. No answer, well hell, what did she expect? She was talking to a cat, after all, which probably made her certifiable. He pulled away from her when she reached the top stair, but didn't leave the porch.

All in all, he was pathetic and clearly frightened. Of what, she wasn't sure.

"Hey, buddy, you look hungry."

She moved her hand slowly toward the animal. Suspicious, but interested, the cat began to move hesitantly towards her.

But then the wind came up again suddenly, blowing leaves around with unexpected force. Spooked, the animal tore off, heading out to what he thought of as safety.

He headed into the darkness of her side yard, a shadow within seconds.

She stood by the door, thinking. He looked like a stray, but she didn't believe in coincidences. It was just a little too perfect. An almost-black cat had shown up as predicted on the first night she'd been away from the house all evening since she'd moved in.

She opened her cell phone and called the Colonel.

"O'Neill."

"Sir."

"Carter, are you all right? You just left here five minutes ago." His voice sounded serious and concerned.

"I – yeah. You didn't by any chance plan on any… gifts to be waiting for me when I got home tonight, did you?"

"What are you talking about?"

She sighed. "There was a cat on my front porch when I got home."

"Funny, Sam." He sounded exasperated.

She grimaced. "Not joking. There really was a cat."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"And you thought I set you up." He was clearly annoyed.

She sighed. He had a point, but she did need to ask, if only to get it over with. And, OK, maybe she shouldn't have called him, but there had been all the other … mysterious movements …of items in the house.

"No of course not, sir, but ...well. I thought you might know something about it. Seeing that there have been all of these other.. jokes; ghostly incidents, tables rearranged, things out of place, I -- anyway."

"Carter, I don't know what the hell you're talking about. What rearrangement of things?"

She sighed. "Someone's been moving things around in the house. I thought it was just the typical SGC practical jokes, pretending there was a ghost."

"Do I seem like the sort of guy who goes around setting up or approving practical jokes?" He paused. "Don't answer that. To be clear, no one is playing practical jokes on you to my knowledge. And if they are, they'll be dealt with tomorrow."

"Sir."

He sighed. "Alright, I'll let you deal with them. But in any case, the cat is not my doing and I want all the details on these supposed jokes tomorrow. Is everything else alright? Is the cat still there?"

"Everything else is fine. The cat's gone. It was spooked by the wind and took off towards the back." She paused, thinking. "To be honest, it looked like a stray. I just don't understand why it'd be sitting on the porch if that was the case."

"Who knows? Maybe it's a neighbor's cat, maybe it's lost, maybe something spooked it from where it normally hides and it landed on the porch for security."

"Yeah. I suppose."

"In any case, it does prove that Griff's security system will not go off because of a cat, regardless of your previous but now proven to be totally unfounded suspicions. You did have it on, right?"

Huh. Maybe it had been spooked from where it normally hid. That could explain some of the rustling she'd heard late at night in her bushes outside the night before. It might have been the cat.

"Carter? The system's on, right?"

"I – yeah." She looked towards the back of the house where the cat had headed. "Damn. There's that light again."

"The flickering one in the back that we couldn't find last night?"

"Yes. Damn it. This is just not funny anymore."

"Anything else? Is the blonde guy out there?"

"No; at least, not that I can see. I'm going to check it out."

"Sam, I don't think you--." He stopped suddenly, as if catching himself. "Have fun, Carter." He paused. "Call me if you need back-up."

She closed the phone and headed down the stairs, staying in the shadow. The light was gone. She headed towards the back silently, staying in the shadow of the bushes, and found a protected spot under some brush facing where she'd last seen the light. Forty minutes later, freezing, she gave up. She'd been all over the property; there was nothing. And if there had been anything, she'd have spooked it by now.

The light was probably just a piece of old metal or glass reflecting moonlight when the angle was right. She'd look for the refuse in the morning. There was nothing back here; not even the cat. She sighed and called the Colonel. Even though he hadn't asked her to, she knew he'd be awake and wondering.

TBC…


	15. Chapter 15

15

Sam woke uneasily, her heart racing, her instincts on high. She was being watched; she could feel it. Her adrenalin kicked in, her movements automatic.

She rolled; seconds later she was on the floor, next to the bed, the flashlight that had been on her table now in her hand and ready to use as a weapon.

Nothing.

She risked visual contact and peered over the edge of her bed.

"Who the hell are you?"

A slight, short blonde haired man stood calmly in the doorway. He was filthy, his clothes dark and somehow wrong. His serious eyes stared back at her through round, wire-rimmed glasses.

She couldn't see a weapon.

"Answer me."

He turned and walked away silently.

Damn. She grabbed her gun from the dresser and headed after him. He was already downstairs -- but that was impossible, no one could be that fast and he hadn't been running.

She saw him look up from the foyer, as if he was waiting for her. Then he disappeared again, towards the kitchen.

She tore down the stairs after him. But when she got there, no one was there. But that was impossible. He couldn't have gotten past her. She did a sweep of the first floor; nothing. And -- damn.

She went back to the kitchen and checked the back door. Hell. Unlocked and unalarmed; just as she'd left it last night after searching the grounds for the lights. She grimaced. She was **so **not mentioning this little incident to the Colonel. He'd never let her hear the end of it.

She relocked and alarmed the door, staring out into the dark. Except it wasn't dark. The lights were there again, flickering so erratically it was hard to believe they were real. But they were. She knew they were.

She peered through the blind, trying to calculate their distance, this time taking her time. They were thirty foot from the house amongst a grove of aspen on the west side of the house, about… almost exactly twenty foot away from where the hidden cellar room ended. She calculated the angle. The lights were on a direct path to where the middle of the hidden room in the cellar would be.

The answer had to be in the cellar.

She silently crept down the cellar stairs. There was nothing in the main room. Nothing behind the bar.

She stayed low, in darkness. She checked the locks on the hidden room. They were all still intact.

It was totally silent.

She opened the locks and then the door, her weapon at the ready, her body angled to the side of the wall.

The room was empty.

She turned on the kerosene lamp in the middle of the room. The shadows of old equipment echoed on the walls, the dust rising from the floor as she moved through it, filling the air with particles. The footprints on the floor were those of hers and the Colonel's, nothing more.

It was what she expected, and yet it wasn't. There had to be more.

She hunkered down by the remains of Hayes' still next to the outside wall of the building. If there was another door, another way into the space, it had to be in the wall behind the still.

And there had to be another door. It was the only thing that made sense of the lights outside. There was a way in and someone was trying to find it.

She and the Colonel should have realized there was another exit when they found the still and the hidden room. Sure, Hayes would have wanted to hide the still, but he'd also want a back distribution route, a way to move the liquor out quietly after he'd made it. He'd have wanted an easy out if things got difficult. There had to be an exit, one that started underground.

She pulled the still away from the wall, inspecting it. There had to be a latch somewhere -- there. There were two of them, one by the ceiling, one on the floor, small enough not to be easily noticed. She pulled the latches and turned off the kerosene light.

She pushed on the wall.

It opened slowly, with difficulty. Fresh cold air came at her, breaking the seal between the rooms. It was pitch black.

She was in total darkness. She decided to risk the flashlight. She turned it on, ready to pull back and slam the door immediately.

Nothing.

She peered around, scoping the area with the light. It was an old mining tunnel, about seven foot high, six feet across. She turned the flashlight on the wood beam supports, checking their stability, then focused the beam forward.

From what she had calculated, she should be able to see the end of the tunnel about twenty foot away, but all there was, was a dirt wall ten foot in front of her. The tunnel must turn there. She started forward.

An arm grabbed her, knocking the flashlight out of her hand, pitching the tunnel into darkness again.

She struck out and landed a blow. Another arm came towards her. She connected with her foot, punching into flesh in the darkness. She took a couple of blows to her ribs, but managed to connect again. She heard a satisfying thump as her assailant dropped to the floor.

She reached for the flashlight. But she was knocked down to the ground as something else slammed into her.

She tried to turn over, to prepare for another attack, but she was still too stunned from the blow.

And then something screeched, tearing away into the darkness, and a strong blast of wind come rushing through the tunnel.

Her assailant stumbled, hit his head on a support beam and fell. She twisted, landing on top of him, and knocked him unconscious.

She pushed off of him and turned over on her back, pulling her weapon.

She rested, breathing hard, then sat up, and found the flashlight. She turned the beam on the front of the tunnel, looking for more of them. There was nothing. She glanced at the perps. The men were both out cold, stunned.

There was nothing else in sight.

Nothing except the cat. He sat cowering at the end of the tunnel where some steps led to the surface, moonlight shimmering through the shaft.

She headed down the tunnel; her weapon extended, and climbed the stairs. The entrance to the mine shaft was a trap door, which had been carefully hidden but was now open to the elements.

She climbed out and sat down on the edge. She caught her breath, looking around. She was on the other side of the stone wall, on her neighbor's property, property that was probably once owned by Hayes.

But why had anyone found the mine shaft? And why was it still in use?

Then she saw the bags, off to the side, under a bush. She crawled over and opened one; nearly twenty kilos of pot and another twenty of cocaine stared back at her, mockingly.

Hell. She had two drug dealers downstairs in a hidden tunnel and no way of knowing if any their friends were waiting in the wings. She couldn't leave the trap door unsupervised. Her house was still alarmed, so they weren't going to be able to get out that way easily.

She couldn't leave where she was but she had to alert the authorities.

She sighed, shrugged and then picked up a rock and aimed it at her living room window. Might as well make use of Griff's security system.

She winced when the rock smashed the glass. Luckily, it wasn't one of the stained glass windows, so she could always replace it. And the Colonel **had** said she should call for back up if she ever needed it. She sat leaned back on the edge of the trap door and waited for reinforcements in the form of the Colonel and the police to arrive.

TBC…

A/N. Thanks to all for the comments and alerts!! grin. I really appreciate them. This chapter is a tad like jumping the shark -- this story does go on for a long time, the perps in here are a distraction, but essential to the plot. This tale is about half way through right now. Thanks for all the conversation and reviews and take care. Sam


	16. Chapter 16

A/N. Thanks for all of the reviews and alerts! My apologies for not responding individually quite yet. Long week. Yeah. Thanks again, very much, for all the comments.

16.

She didn't hear him, didn't see him, suddenly someone was just there, behind her. She twisted, pulling her weapon.

"Jeez, Carter. Could you point that thing somewhere else?"

"I – sorry. Didn't hear you." She put the gun away and rubbed her side. Her ribs were starting to ache.

The Colonel grimaced, then sat down next to her and shrugged. "That was the idea. I wasn't sure who was out here at first."

"How did you know where I was?"

He gestured toward her flashlight. "Just followed the light."

"Oh. Yeah. Right."

"Everything all right?"

"Yeah. I think so."

He squatted on his haunches, looking into the mouth of the tunnel. "So, want to tell me what's … uh…gone down?"

She rubbed her eyes with her hand. "Cute."

He smiled and then opened one of the bags lying to her left. He took a pinch of the white powder between his fingers and tested it on his tongue. "Coke." He checked the other bags. "And pot."

He looked up, curious, grinning. "Carter, I hope you haven't taken to drug dealing because Goblin Manor's broken the bank. It's going to be hard to explain to Hammond."

She grimaced, ignoring the joke and gestured towards the shaft. "There's an underground tunnel and a doorway at the end into the hidden room in the cellar. There are two men down there, unconscious, and the cat's probably down there as well."

"O--kay." He paused. "So, just so I'm clear: previously unknown underground tunnel, two unconscious perps, and a cat. Have I got that right?"

"Yeah." She winced. The ribs were really starting to ache.

He looked at her appraisingly. "You sure you're all right?"

"Yeah." She winced again, rubbing her side.

"Yep, you betcha." He grimaced, clearly not buying her comment. He cocked his head at the tunnel, and then grinned. "You could have called, you know. It's not very neighborly to leave me out of the fun."

She smiled. "Homeowner's prerogative. And will you please check on the perps, sir? I don't know how long they're going to stay out of it, and I don't want them smashing up the house."

He sat down on the edge of the shaft, ready to move down the stairs, pulling his gun. "Back in a minute. Kazinski and company should be here anytime now. It'll all be over shortly."

"Yeah. Thanks."

All in all, the Colonel's optimistic projection was just that. Optimistic. In actuality, it was nearly three a.m. by the time the perps, the drugs and the police had left the premises.

In the interim between when the Colonel had arrived and when all was finally quiet, through which she had dealt patiently, she hoped, with the Springs police, the cat and Jack had both decided to declare squatting rights in her living room. While dealing with Kazinski, she'd managed to feed the cat, who seemed to approve of the remains of her dinner from the night before last. Consequently, she was pretty sure why it'd decided to declare squatting rights. But she didn't quite know why the Colonel was still here. None-the-less, he was.

She headed into the living room, watching as Jack poured them both a couple of whiskeys, gave her one, and settled back down on her couch.

She sat down herself, and then squirmed, uncomfortable in the Mies chair where she usually sat.

"How bad are the ribs?"

"They're fine." When he looked at her suspiciously, not buying her response, she added, "Just bruised."

She changed the subject. "I think I'll head up to bed."

He shrugged and took a sip of the whiskey. "Go for it, Carter. Take some ibuprofen. It'll help."

She stood up. "Thanks for the help, sir."

She expected him to get up and head out the door, but he just settled in, took off his shoes and put his feet up on the coffee table. The cat jumped up on the couch next to him.

She stared at them both, annoyed. "You're not leaving, are you." It wasn't a question.

"Nope."

"I'm perfectly fine."

"I know."

"It's completely unlikely that anyone else is going to show up tonight. Besides, Kazinski and crew are flooding the neighborhood with cop cars."

"Know that too."

"It's three a.m. and Griff's due here tomorrow… today… to start wiring the kitchen at seven."

"Don't forget Danny. He said he had some info about Hayes. He was going to show at the same time."

She tried again to kick him out politely. "I need to get some sleep, sir."

He shrugged. "So, sleep."

"I'm not going to bed if you're down here."

He gestured to his left. "The cat's staying."

"The cat's invited."

He grinned. "So, you've already taken in one stray. What's another?"

"**You** are not a stray. You have a perfectly good house that does not have gravestones, crypts, hidden cellars, secret tunnels and drug dens." She grimaced, thinking. "And I honestly think that that cat saved my tail tonight. He deserves a new place to bunk."

He looked up at her, curious. "How so, Carter?" She started to explain, but he interrupted. "Sit. Your couch is more comfortable than that modern monstrosity you call a chair."

"I –"

"Sit, Captain. That's an order."

"You can't – oh, hell."

She sat. She put her head on the back of the couch, her feet up on the coffee table, and took a drink of the whiskey.

"Better?"

"I – yes." She gave it up; he was completely impossible, but she knew that.

"About the cat."

"Yeah, the cat." She looked over at the animal, which seemed to notice her interest and crawled over the Colonel to sit in her lap.

"Brown-noser, clearly. Cat story, Carter. I'm waiting."

"I'd taken down the first perp, but it was pitch black in the tunnel and I didn't see the second. He took me down."

His hands closed tightly around his whiskey glass, but his tone was mild when he finally replied. "Can't say Goblin Manor doesn't have its surprises."

She grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch, suddenly cold, and put it around her. "Yeah. There's that. Anyway, I think I would have been in serious trouble, but he stepped on the cat."

"Come again?"

"I don't honestly know what happened. The best I can come up with is that he stepped on it, or it tripped him, but somehow the cat got in the way and he stumbled." She paused, remembering. "It was strange, because I don't think the cat in and of itself would have been enough to distract him. At just the same time, there was a strong gust of wind that came down the tunnel. The combination shook him, and he lost his balance and hit his head on the beam that was directly behind and slightly above him. The blow rattled him and I was able to do the rest."

Jack's cell phone broke the silence that had settled in the room.

"O'Neill." Pause. "Saul. Any information?"

She waited quietly trying to hear what was going on, but the Colonel was silent for a long time, just listening. "Got it." Pause. "Yeah, well, she's Air Force. That's a given." Pause. "We'll make sure it's taken care of tomorrow. You'll keep a car around for a while?" Pause. "No problem. Always glad to help." He shut down the phone.

"So?"

"So, Carter, apparently Goblin Manor's long status as a den of iniquity has finally been shattered tonight. That was Kazinski. He wants to personally thank you at some point in the near future for taking apart the main Springs drug cartel single-handedly."

He stopped and took a sip of his whiskey, and then continued. "The perps turned over state's evidence. Evidently, the last tenants of Goblin Manor that resided here over three years ago were busted for dope. The house was left empty after that, as you know. The tenants got an 18-month sentence and left Colorado directly after. But while they were here, they discovered the tunnel, but interestingly enough, evidently not from the inside of the house. They found the trap door that led in on the other property."

He took another drink. "The cartel realized it was the perfect place to stash large caches of dope until they were ready to move them. So, they bought the property next door that led into the tunnel, and spread around stories of ghosts wandering around your place, consequently making sure that remained abandoned and un-tenanted. They used the tunnel as a supply depo, so to speak. One of the perps is your neighbor to the west."

"Why didn't they just buy my house?"

"They thought they had bought the only property that had access into what they assumed was an abandoned mine. Buying both properties would have been too obvious. They wanted to maintain a low profile. A haunted, abandoned property of this size next door to their operations was perfect for their uses and wouldn't raise any eyebrows."

"So, if they wanted it to be abandoned, why didn't they do something when I moved in? I mean – oh, yeah, the lights, and the blonde haired man. They were trying to get me out."

"That's the odd part, Carter. They had nothing to do with the lights. In fact, the lights spooked them as well; they thought the police were on to them. But they couldn't find anything. They weren't worried about you because they knew you were…"

"I was what?"

"A single woman."

"I – jeez."

He raised his hand. "To give them some credit, they did know you were an Air Force officer, but as you and I both know, we're supposed to be doing geek jobs at the Mountain. As cover, you were perfect; a woman, a geek, and never around. You wouldn't have time for the house, which was even better than it's being abandoned. All they needed was occasional access to the tunnel and the entrance to that was on the next-door property, not yours. They could do what was necessary while you were gone or asleep, and if you did see anything, well, there was always the ghost. They thought if you got too nosey, they could always spook you out; and if you didn't, you were the perfect ….uh…witness to verify that nothing unusual was happening on the property. "

"Hell."

He grinned. "Well, never judge a book by its… whatever."

He took another sip of whiskey. "There are just a few problems, though."

"And those are?"

"As I said, the good news is that the perps claim they didn't know that the tunnel was connected to the house. They thought it was just an old dead-end mining tunnel, falling apart. In fact, they were appalled, from what Saul said, when they realized it connected. It meant there'd been another access to their stash that they didn't know about. It's also how you were able to surprise them. They didn't expect anyone to come from what they thought was a dead-end."

She shrugged. "It makes sense. There were no footprints except ours in the room, and the tunnel door was hard to open."

"I know. I checked."

She raised her eyebrows, staring at him.

"When I locked down the cellar room while Kazinski and company were here."

"I – thanks." She hadn't realized he'd done that. She should have thought of it herself. Damn. She thought back on his last comments. "What's the bad news?"

He swallowed another sip of whiskey. "The bad news is that Kazinski believes them about the lights. They didn't know about them, and in fact were spooked by them. They didn't have flashlights with them when Kazinski picked them up, and there were no portable lights of any sort in the tunnel or around the edge when I checked last night. Seeing as one of the perps lived next door, he knew the property well, and there was a full moon last night, he didn't need lights. But something or someone else must have."

"Terrific." She swallowed a sip of whiskey. "What's the rest of the bad news?"

"I'm not sure what to make of it. Might not matter at all."

"What?"

"Neither of the perps is blonde, slender, mustached and slightly seedy. In fact, they're the opposite. Over six foot, over 220, solid blocks of … block."

He grinned. "Kazinski was very impressed that you brought them down." He swallowed another sip of whiskey. "I, of course, told him that was nothing. What else would he expect a trained Air Force officer to do?"

"Huh." She ignored the warm glow she felt from his approval and instead petted the cat that had settled into her lap.

She got back to the point. "Kazinski is positive they don't know a slender blonde guy?"

He stared at her curiously. "Positive. Why do you ask?"

"Nothing." She was not, absolutely not, talking about that part of the last evening's events unless absolutely necessary. It was on a need to know basis, and right now he really didn't need to know.

She sighed, thinking. "So, still not done with the story."

He grinned apologetically and moved his hand over the cat's back in synch with hers. "I suspect not. I'm sorry, Carter. "

She rallied. This was her house, and her tale. She was not going to be rattled by a few minor problems like unknown lights and strange blonde men that appeared and disappeared out of nowhere. She dealt with the Goa'uld on a daily basis, for heaven's sakes, what were a few miscellaneous lights and disappearing specters?

"Not a problem, sir. Kind of interesting, don't you think?"

He smiled. "Actually, I do." He looked at her carefully, his eyes serious and dark, and decided something, what, she couldn't quite figure out. "Get some sleep, Carter. Daniel and Griff will be here in less than four hours and we have a big day tomorrow."

"I -- all right."

Hell, what did it matter? There was really no reason to kick him out for four hours, and truth be told, she'd appreciate the company. She shifted on the couch, trying to get comfortable.

He moved his arm, adjusting her onto his shoulder, the cat settled into her lap quietly purring, and that was the last she remembered.

TBC…


	17. Chapter 17

17.

"Sam?" Daniel's voice echoed throughout the house, coming from the foyer.

"Sam? The door was unlocked, so I thought I'd —whoa. Sorry."

"For crying out loud, Daniel. Keep it down. She's still asleep and she only had a few hours last night. Go make coffee. The pot's in the pantry next to the kitchen."

"Right." Sam could hear the astonishment in Daniel's voice as he moved out of the living room and into the kitchen.

"Oh, hell." She moved her head from the Colonel's shoulder, stretching her neck. She looked around the room groggily, assessing her position.

And grimaced. This was not good. She was three -quarters of the way all over him; her head on his shoulder; her body up against his. Yeah, an outside observer could easily think that she was close to being on top of her CO. This was so not good; very not good. She voiced the thought, not able to think past the phrase. She repeated it aloud.

"This is so not good."

He shrugged, his hand running through her hair, against the back of her head. "It's just Daniel. Nothing to worry about. He went to make coffee."

She sighed and sat up, pulling away, not wanting to leave the security and the warmth he provided, but knowing that she had to get up. Daniel would have a field day with what he'd already seen, and that was all totally innocent. Still, the Colonel was right. What was done was done. She'd deal with Daniel later, if necessary. But she had to seriously get up.

She tried to divert her thoughts. She moved away from the Colonel's warmth and the arm he had comfortably settled around her shoulders.

"Where's Schrödinger?"

"Who?"

The Colonel stared at her, confused by her comment, although not by her actions. She could tell that he understood her need to create some space between them.

"The cat."

He shrugged and sat up, wiping his face with his hands. "You named the cat in your sleep?"

"I—yeah. I guess I did."

"Well, ok, uhh…sure." He looked at her strangely.

She shrugged, and ignored him, still trying to wake up.

Daniel finally returned, three cups of coffee in hand. He gave one to her and one to Jack, looking apologetic in the process. "Sorry. I'm a little early."

The Colonel turned on Daniel, obviously glad to get the cat confusion over.

"Yeah, and you're loud as well. Can't you read, Daniel? I left a note on the door that said 'come in quietly', not 'yell out Carter's name at the top of your lungs'."

She blinked, trying to chase away sleep and stared at the Colonel. "**You **left the door **unlocked**?" The thought was outrageous given the amount of hassle he'd given her about keeping the place secure.

The Colonel shrugged, not quite meeting her eyes. "I was awake and Kazinski's got the area under surveillance. Until you get the window repaired, the security system's offline. I figured you could use some extra sleep, so when you passed out, I left Daniel a note. Which, I might add, he didn't read."

Daniel sat down in the Mies chair across from them. "I read it."

The Colonel growled. "I stand corrected. Daniel read and ignored the note I left."

"I didn't ignore it. I didn't believe it. It looked like an engraved invitation for a burglar, and given that it was in your handwriting, Jack, I didn't want to get caught in one of your traps by accident."

"It was drug dealers, Daniel, and Carter took care of them last night, so there was no need for a trap. The note was meant for you not your overactive imagination. Sheesh."

"What drug dealers?"

Sam rubbed her eyes and broke in. It was too damned early to deal with their usual bickering. "Daniel, this isn't what it looks like. I had a busy night here last night and the Colonel—"

Daniel interrupted her. "All it looks like is that you fell asleep after working too long on the remodeling." He took a sip of coffee. "Totally reasonable."

The Colonel grimaced, ready to start in again, and she decided to bail. She didn't know what was going to be said and she didn't want to hear any of it anyway.

"I'm taking a shower."

Daniel shrugged. "Sure."

She paused, stood and then glanced around the room. "Did you see a cat?"

Daniel looked even more confused than he had been before. "Uh, no, should I have?"

She sighed. "Not necessarily. But he must be around here somewhere." She looked at the Colonel. "Feed him if you find him, will you, sir? I'll be back in ten minutes."

The Colonel raised his hand, acknowledging the comment. Daniel took a sip of his coffee.

She left to regroup.

By the time she'd showered and changed, Daniel and Griff were ensconced in her living room, along with the Colonel, all drinking coffee. Schrödinger had been found and was sitting on the Colonel's lap. She took some satisfaction in the last.

The Colonel was filling Daniel and Griff in on the events of the last evening.

"So, Carter knocked them both out and then activated the security system by throwing a rock through the window." He gestured toward the broken pane they had card-boarded over the night before.

Griff broke in. "So, Saul called you when the system went off?"

"Yeah."

Griff cocked his head. "You know, Jack, I could rig it so that you could be alerted directly as well as the police."

Jack shrugged. "Sounds like a plan to me, but we'll have to check with Carter."

She moved into the room, feeling nearly civilized, and sat down next to the Colonel and the cat. "Sounds good to me as well. Thanks, Griff."

He grinned. "Not a problem. I'll need to get some of my security crew in today to get the window repaired and the system back operating anyway. I'll change it then."

The Colonel looked towards Daniel. "So, Hayes was quite the character. Hidden rooms, secret tunnels, gravestones, crypts…"

Sam sighed. "Yep, he was clearly a bundle of laughs."

The Colonel looked at her sympathetically. "At least there are no dead bodies."

"Yet. I'm sure some old bones will show up any time now."

The Colonel grinned. "Yes, well, there is that possibility. Can't have a good ghost story without some skeletons laying around."

She glared at him.

He coughed and changed the subject. "Daniel, have you… uhh… dug up any dirt about Hayes and Goblin Manor?"

Daniel took a sip of coffee. "Cute, Jack. But yes, I have. That's what I wanted to talk to you and Sam about. I had to 'dig' through a lot of primary source materials in the County Library; diaries, old newspapers, old deeds and trusts. Most of its not online, so I had to --."

"And …" The Colonel prompted, obviously uninterested in the process Daniel employed to obtain the information.

Daniel sighed and looked at her pointedly. "Anyway, Sam, after negotiating with the County librarian, who's a very interesting woman by the way, early thirties, name is Christine Covington, studied social history at Yale and then got a masters in information science at --"

"Daniel."

Daniel ignored the Colonel. " As I was saying, Sam, after Christine provided me with access after hours, I was able to piece together some of the story of Henry Hayes and the history of your house."

"Oh, do tell." Jack's impatience was palpable in the room.

Daniel grinned, obviously deciding he'd exasperated the Colonel sufficiently for one session. Sam sighed. She would never understand what went on between the two of them. She honestly wasn't sure she wanted to know.

She broke in. "Daniel? I'd like to know the story."

With that, he smiled at her and began the tale. "Alright, here we go."

"Henry Hayes was born in 1862, the youngest scion of a wealthy Boston family. He spent his formative years at a prep school in the East for sons of the wealthy, and was scheduled to start University at Harvard when he was 18. He took a trip out West the summer before enrolling, came out to Colorado Springs, and, when summer was over didn't go back."

"Why not?"

Daniel shrugged. "Hard to say, Jack. But you have to imagine the Springs in 1880. It was already known as a playground for the rich, the largest city in Colorado at the time. Hayes, as the son of a wealthy Bostonian, was courted, wined and dined by the City's elite. It must have been a heady feeling for a younger son." He swallowed a sip of coffee. "And most reports indicate that he fell in love with a young girl named Sarah King.

"Sarah King was 15 when she met Hayes. Her father evidently thought she was too young for Hayes, although Hayes wasn't much older himself, and completely cut the connection when Hayes' father disowned him because he refused to return home to Boston."

Sam smiled. "Unrequited young love. At least there's some romance in the story."

The Colonel cocked his head, grinning. "Wouldn't have expected you to be a sucker for the romantic fairy tale, Carter."

She grinned back at him. "Better than drug dealers, sir. And what's wrong with…" She stopped, catching Daniel's smirk, and schooled her expression into one of polite disinterest. She coughed. "Anyway…"

Daniel took up the tale again. "Anyway, it's not obvious what really kept Hayes here. There's enough evidence to indicate that he was bitten by gold fever by then like the majority of the population at the time. But it's hard to tell. He disappears from diaries and the papers of the period for the next five years, and then suddenly shows up again at the end of 1885, with what would now be millions in gold at the ready.

"Needless to say, he was welcomed back with open arms into the crème of Springs society. He married Sarah King that winter and built Hayes House the following year in 1886. There was a child, Rachel, who was born and died the same year. The newspaper accounts didn't specify the cause of death."

"That's the name and date on one of the gravestones by the crypt." Sam grimaced.

The Colonel changed the subject. "How did Hayes make his money?"

"Prospecting. He found gold and silver in the high country, and expanded the 'Sarah', his mining operation, over the next two decades. According to newspaper reports, he said he had a 'hunch' about the area, bought a deed to the property in 1882, and worked the claim until it panned out for him in 85."

"So Eastern city boy miraculously makes good against all odds in the wild West. Quite the story." The Colonel clearly didn't buy it.

Daniel shrugged. "There are indications in a few diaries of the period that the story was considered suspicious even back then; some supposition that Hayes must have had a silent partner who knew the mountains and had prospected in the area. But there's no evidence that that was the case. And Hayes sure wasn't talking."

"What about the crypt, Daniel?"

"I'm getting to it, Sam. In any case, for the next ten years, Sarah and Henry lived a life of luxury in Colorado Springs. They entertained high society and traveled to the East to see his family; seeing that Henry was now rich, he'd been forgiven by his father. There was also a trip to Europe in 1892. And then Sarah became pregnant again. The child was stillborn and died in 1896."

"Both of the stones in the yard say '86. One does have Rachel on it."

Daniel took a sip of coffee, not looking at her. "I'll take a look at them later today. Maybe the etching wore."

Sam shrugged. "I suppose it's possible."

"In any case, diaries of the time indicate that Sarah Hayes never got over the death of her second child. She turned into a recluse, refusing invitations, never leaving the house. At the same time, Henry became more and more obsessed with the production of the mine, and expanding the claim. He started the town of Cripple Bank in 1898 and spent most of his time in the mountains, leaving Sarah alone down here."

"And then?"

"Sarah disappeared. Hayes came home in late 1899 and found her gone. She was never seen again."

"Oh, c'mon, Daniel."

"I'm serious, Jack. There was a huge scandal at the time. Sarah's father, of course, raised an uproar. Hayes did himself. There were police investigations and Hayes apparently hired a private investigator as well to try to find his wife. The investigator put adds in the newspapers asking for anyone with information to come forward; there was a reward offered. But she was never seen again.

"There were a number of theories in the diaries, even some in letters to the editor of the _**Daily**_; it was a big scandal in a small community, so everyone had an opinion. Some thought she had taken her own life and Hayes was hushing it up; others thought she had run away from him, tired of his obsession with gold and the mine; and yet another camp thought she had left him for another man she'd been seen with while Hayes was building Cripple Bank and Hayes was too ashamed to admit it. In any case, almost all of them agreed that Sarah Hayes had been 'off' when she disappeared."

Daniel paused. "The most prominent theory, however, was that Hayes murdered her himself because she couldn't give him an heir."

Sam broke in. "Oh terrific. So, the guy who built my house murdered his wife. I suppose the body is buried on the property somewhere."

The Colonel raised his eyebrows, mockingly. "Maybe we should check for skeletons in the closets."

"Enough, sir." CO or not, she was not putting up with jokes off-duty with only four hours sleep.

Daniel grinned, amused. "Unnecessary, Jack. The police searched the house and the grounds. The body was never found."

"Wonderful." She grimaced.

"Hayes was treated like a pariah after that. He apparently spent all of his time in Cripple Bank until he finally closed the mine and the town in 1915, due to the War. He disappears in the records until 1918, when he shows up back here at Hayes House, or at least I think it was 1918. There's no real trace of him until his death in 1921, due to a gunfight in his speak-easy. The newspapers of 1921 state that the police had been suspicious of the House for several years and local Prohibition went into effect in 1918. I imagine he'd been running the speakeasy for about three years and then got into trouble. He shot two men, James Rutherford and John Pearson, both originally from Cripple Bank, and was killed as well in the gunfire."

Sam groaned. "Great. Just great. So, what happened to the house next? I suppose it was turned into a brothel and the madam murdered her girls … or no, I suppose she murdered the guests. Yeah, that must be it. One of the girls stole her beau and she killed them both in a fit of passion. "

"Carter, I know I said that you should go with the flow, but your theory is just flat out unrealistic. Obviously, the madam, I suspect her name was… Rose, yeah, Rose, was spooked by Hayes' ghost arguing with Rutherford's over and over again in the cellar every night and her gun accidentally went off, killing her lover and his girl."

Sam stared at the Colonel, and then grinned. Who knew he had a sense of humor and a love of the ridiculous? And of course he was right on the hidden message as well. There was no need to get bent out of shape about a murder that **might** have happened over seventy years ago.

She smirked. "Sorry, sir. I don't know what I was thinking."

He smiled. "Well, you are a tad distracted right now, Carter. I think exceptions are in order."

Daniel groaned. "Are you two done yet? Because there is more of the story."

"Sorry, Daniel." Sam smiled, or at least tried to smile apologetically at Daniel, but she couldn't quite stop the grin hiding underneath.

He sighed. " Henry Hayes left Hayes House to his nephew, Joseph. But Joseph wasn't interested in the property; he was a banker in Boston. Joseph wanted to rent it out, but by then the House's reputation was such that no one was interested. It stood empty for three years until Joseph finally did find a renter."

"Not a brothel?" The Colonel was clearly taken by the idea, and disappointed that it hadn't come to pass. Sam grinned.

"No."

"So, what then?"

"Well, that's the odd part. The renter was James Rutherford's younger brother John, who grew up in Cripple Bank as Rutherford's dependant. He lived here alone the rest of his life. Finally bought the house from what was left of the Hayes family in 1945, most of the sons having died in World War II and the family coffers apparently depleted. John stayed here until his death in 1970. The House was inherited by a grand niece who lives in Florida. She's rented it out for years. In fact, Sam, you must have bought the place from her."

The Colonel shifted on the couch, thinking. "So, the mysteries of Goblin Manor continue long after Hayes' death."

"Yes. The unanswered questions are: what happened to Sarah Hayes and why did Rutherford's younger brother spend the rest of his life alone in the house of his brother's murderer?"

"Interesting, Daniel. But it's history. More to the point, the current unanswered questions are who's shining lights at Sam's property and who is the slight blonde-haired mustached guy that's been hanging around?"

"What blonde-haired guy?"

"I told you about him, Daniel."

"Did not."

"Did."

Sam broke in before Daniel and the Colonel got out of hand. "He's been seen around the property in the evening, but he disappears before anyone has a chance to talk to him. He isn't a member of the drug cartel, according to Kazinksi."

She changed the subject, wanting to stop the bickering. "Did you find any pictures of Hayes, Daniel?"

He shook his head, diverted. "Yeah. And some of the house. The house photos were taken at some social events Hayes and his wife threw in 1891. Here; take a look."

He handed them to her. She stared at them, surprised. "That's odd." She looked up. "Did you show these to anyone at the SGC?"

"No. Why?"

"Strange."

"What's strange, Carter?" The Colonel looked over her shoulder, curious.

"It's just that --well, look at this view in the living room. You can't see many of the faces, but you can see the layout."

"And—"

"And someone keeps moving the table I have over there… to there." She pointed to both areas. "Just like where the one is in the photograph. I thought it was just a practical joke but if it was, it was well-researched."

The Colonel looked up from the photo, examining the room. "Who could have seen these photos, Daniel?"

Daniel shrugged. "Anyone who bothered to do research on Hayes. They were front page news at the time." He paused, thinking. "On the other hand, the _**Daily**_ hasn't been scanned or microfilmed, so someone would have had to have access to a print original. As far as I know, only the County Library has a full run, and you have to request items there. I could check to see if anyone else has been researching Hayes recently."

"Which one is Hayes?" Sam stared at the picture, but all the faces were turned away from the camera and the room was full.

"You can't see him very well in these photos; his back is to the photographer. Here's a better one, when he's up at Cripple Bank with the mine crew." He pointed to an individual in the photograph.

"Damn."

"Carter?"

She sighed. "The guy that's been hanging around…5'8", 150, wire-rims, well… he's a dead ringer for Henry Hayes."

Daniel interrupted. "Or Hayes is a dead ringer for him."

The Colonel grimaced. "Dead apparently being the operative word."

TBC.. next chapter coming shortly…


	18. Chapter 18

A/N. Thanks for the reviews and alerts! I very much appreciate them!

18.

Sam put her elbows on her knees and rubbed her eyes. "I don't believe this. I absolutely do not believe this. Are you telling me that I have a real live ghost on the property? Because that's just...dandy."

She stared accusingly at the Colonel. "You didn't mention when you …suggested… I 'get a life' that it was going to involve so many dead bodies."

"Carter."

She raised her hand for silence, her patience finally gone. The whole situation was starting to unnerve her. All she'd wanted to do was have a place to live, for heaven sakes. "I'm not done. So, in addition to a ghost wandering around at will, there have been three, possibly four murders on the premises, and a passel of drug dealers. And let's not forget the secret tunnel and a hidden room. Who knows how many more tunnels there are? I should probably run a satellite survey of the property to check it out."

"It's a thought, Sam."

She stared at Griff incredulously. He'd been unusually silent throughout the morning.

"Sorry."

She looked away and got back to the point. " There's also a mysterious crypt along with the headstones." She stared at Daniel suspiciously. "What about the crypt? You didn't mention what you found. There must be something."

He winced. "I didn't want to upset you, Sam."

"You didn't --" It was the first time she honestly understood what being speechless meant. "Oh do tell, Daniel. What's one more dead body."

"No dead body, Sam. Really. At least, not anymore."

"Not anymore?"

Daniel sighed. "The crypt is documented; it was built for Hayes' stillborn son. Sarah insisted he be buried on the property. The police moved the body when they were searching for her. He's interred now in Christ Cemetery. So is Rachel, Hayes' first child. So is Hayes himself, for that matter. But I don't know anything specific about the headstones, beyond what you've told me. There was no mention of them in the papers or the police reports. I'll take a look at them today to see what I can find."

"So they could be graves."

"Sam, no, they can't be. Or if they are, Hayes had nothing to do with burying any bodies. The police dug up the area in 1899 looking for her. It was clean."

She sighed. "Even so, it still doesn't explain why tables are moving around mysteriously in the middle of the night and Henry Hayes' apparition feels the need to visit."

"Carter, there is no such thing as ghosts."

Daniel interrupted. "Actually, we don't know that, Jack. There's a fair amount of evidence that supports the supposition."

"Daniel…"

Daniel continued, ignoring the Colonel's interruption. "I'm just saying that there are a lot of unexplained phenomena. Most people think aliens, space ships and false gods are fantasies straight out of science fiction, but…"

The Colonel broke in again, glancing at Griff and then at her. " Stow it, Daniel. You're not helping."

Daniel finally glanced up at that and must have caught her expression. "I – oh." He turned to her. "Sorry, Sam. I'm sure there's a simple explanation."

The Colonel broke in. "Yes, Daniel, there is. As far as we know, the perps were lying. The blonde guy may be part of the cartel, hired to spook people out of the area. Or he's just some wacko, pretending to be Hayes. In any case, there is a logical, earthly explanation." The Colonel's voice was firm, brooking no argument.

Sam backtracked; as much as she didn't want a ghost, and hadn't been amused by the Colonel's stories about her house and the neighborhood, at least it had all just been annoying, and a fantasy. She really, really did not want to hear that there was a logical explanation for her current homeowner problems because a logical explanation meant there was going to be more trouble; more broken windows, more bruise ribs, more… stuff. More worries about her house. Plus, a logical explanation meant she was going to have to come clean about seeing the blonde guy** in** her house last night and that she'd left the house unlocked. Nope, she was just not going there.

She changed direction. It was the only sensible thing to do. "It's perfectly possible that I have a ghost."

The Colonel, Daniel and Griff all stared at her, shocked into silence by her complete change in perspective.

The Colonel finally cleared his throat. "Oh, for crying out loud, Carter. You're a scientist. You know perfectly well that --"

She interrupted, now determined on her new course. "I don't. I've never seen the research on paranormal manifestations; for all I know it could be completely valid. As Daniel says, we've seen stranger things."

"Daniel's an anthropologist, for gods sakes. He likes story telling, myths, fantasies and fiction. Oral- whatever."

Daniel broke in. "Actually, Jack, I'm an archaeologist as well as a linguist. And you know that. And you know there's a difference, although I admit you might have a point about some of the literature out there recently, but that's beside the point. The point is that you're the one who started the 'ghost story' theme in these conversations by calling Sam's house 'Goblin Manor.' If she wants to decide to explore the possibility of ghosts, amplifying your earlier suggestions, that's her choice. I'll buy it."

The Colonel waved his argument away, exasperated. "OK, I may have started this whole ghost story business, but it was meant to be fun, nothing more. There **are** **no** ghosts; not here, not anywhere. And what is going on in your house, Carter, is based on real situations, not fantasy."

She shrugged, and rubbed her side, refusing to give in. "I vote for a ghost. It's easier on the ribs."

He looked at her appraisingly, and finally stood up. "Alright, I probably deserved that. There may be a ghost. Your call. It's your house, after all."

He shook his head, annoyed. "In any case, Carter, you need a break; we both do. And you're looking a little green around the gills."

"I'm not upset."

"Sure you're not." He changed topics. "But in any case, ghosts aside, if you want to keep on the remodel schedule we need to hunt appliances today and that particular hunting ground, as in Reynold's preferred warehouse, is in Denver."

He glanced at Daniel. "Keep checking. See if you can find out anything more about what happened to Sarah Hayes and more importantly find out who's been researching the story well enough to know what Hayes looked like and how the interior of the house was laid out in 1890. Griff—"

"I'll get the system back online, Jack, and add a few upgrades."

"Thanks."

"Sir, I don't think leaving the house today is such a great idea."

"Carter, there's nothing we can do here until Daniel does some more research and Griff gets you back online. The 'ghost' isn't going to show in the middle of the day. And you need appliances."

"I – all right." She sighed. He did have a point. She couldn't drop everything just because some wacko was wandering around.

Daniel interrupted, diverted. "So, Jack, you're going with Sam to shop for appliances?"

The Colonel snorted. "They're **kitchen** appliances. If you think I'm going to let Carter engage in independent stove selection, you're out of your mind."

Daniel grinned. "Good point."

She bristled. "I am perfectly capable of picking out a stove on my own. I know more about BTUs than either one of you."

Daniel ignored her, smirking. "I'll start by checking the gravestones, then head over to the County Library and look into who's been reading the _**Daily**_ if Christine will give me access to the names. I want to do some research on Rutherford as well. There must be more to the story of his connection with Hayes, beyond shooting each other. Who know? Maybe he was Hayes silent partner, or something. Besides, Hayes is pretty much a dead end at this point."

"Funny, Daniel."

He grinned. "I try."

Griff stood up as well. "And I need to get my both of my crews, electrical and security, in here if you want the security back online and your kitchen wired."

"Carter, I need to shower and change. I'll be back in an hour to pick you up."

The Colonel turned to Griff. "Teal'c and Fredrickson should be by later this morning to lend a hand. I asked them to keep an eye on things today while we're gone. Let me out the back. I can show you the plans in the kitchen."

"Will do, Jack." And with that, Griff and the Colonel headed out to the back of her house.

"See you later, Sam." Daniel got up and disappeared through the front door, clearly intending to investigate her gravestones.

Which left the cat. "You planning on leaving as well?"

Schrödinger sat up and readjusted his position in her lap.

"Huh. Well, there is that. But to be blunt, you need a bath. I suppose there's no time like the present. We've got an hour."

He yawned, and settled in again. "Point taken. A nap it is." She closed her eyes and leaned back against the back of the couch.

TBC…


	19. Chapter 19

19.

Even with the Colonel's best intentions, it was after noon when they finally headed north towards Denver. He'd been late returning, nearly unheard of for him, and her place had been a madhouse for most of the morning, with Griff's crew arriving and the Colonel insisting on Teal'c and Fredrickson being informed about the events of the night before. Kazinski had also shown up, wanting to interview her again and recheck the tunnel for additional evidence.

The Colonel was unusually quiet, even for him, on the trip to Denver. Half way through, she watched as he adjusted his rear view mirror for the second time. "Anything wrong, sir?"

"Nope. Nothing happening that I didn't expect, anyway. The traffic's worse than usual. And it's Jack."

"I 25 into Denver is usually a beast on Saturday."

"Yes, it is." He settled into silence again.

She took a deep breath and decided to bite the bullet. She'd been a bear this morning. If he was upset with her, it was better to know sooner than later. Plus, she really did owe him an apology. "I'm sorry if I was a little testy this morning."

He kept his eyes on the road, negotiating the heavy traffic. "Not a problem, Carter. In fact, I'm relieved."

"Excuse me?"

"I've seen you take down a half dozen Jaffa single handedly and disarm alien technology that's about to blow in moments without batting an eyelash. It's reassuring to know that you can be … a little unnerved on occasion, like the rest of us."

"I – thanks, I think." She didn't know what to think about his comment.

He seemed to recognize her confusion. "Carter, you don't have to prove anything to anyone. The last week hasn't exactly been business as usual during down time and neither one of us got much sleep last night. I'm tired myself and I don't have the bruises that come with taking down a couple of six foot, 220 drug dealers."

"I appreciate that. Thanks." She suddenly felt more relieved than she cared to admit that he wasn't concerned about her attitude that morning. It turned out his opinion mattered to her, a lot. She grimaced. He was her CO, after all. It was all normal enough. Yeah, sure it was.

"So, I think you ought to get a Viking."

"What?"

He grinned. "A Viking and I'm not referring to Thor."

"OK, I'll bite. What's a Viking?"

"That comment, Carter, points out exactly why you need me on this little expedition. To clarify in terms you will understand, the Viking is the P90 of ovens."

"Ah. Well, sounds expensive."

"Beside the point. You can conserve cash on your choice of fridge. Yep, you definitely need a Viking."

"And that's because?" She grinned, listening, as he extolled the virtues of ovens, stoves, gas appliances in general and Vikings in particular. It was all very relaxing.

Five hours later and more thousands placed on her credit card than she wanted to think about, they were finished selecting appliances for the kitchen and back in the Colonel's truck.

"Tell me again why I need a wine cooler?"

The Colonel stared at her as if she were particularly dense. "It cools beer, wine too, Carter. You'll need it for all the SGC parties you're going to throw. Gets the bottles out of the fridge so there's more room for food. Besides, Frank gave it to you for half price and Reynolds told me to look for one that would fit in the slot where we took out the cabinets."

"Oh, yeah, Frank." The Colonel and the owner of the warehouse had taken to each other like ducks to water. She'd spent the afternoon wandering in the background, listening to them both pan and celebrate various brands of appliance.

"Poker buddy by any chance?"

The Colonel grinned. "Never met him before in my life. But I should have checked. He does take care of a number of deliveries in the Springs."

She watched as the Colonel turned the truck into a parking lot. "Where are we headed?"

He parked and turned off the truck. "Dinner. It's almost a two-hour drive back with this traffic and it's already 6:30. The Fort serves the best buffalo steaks in Colorado but that's out of our way tonight; it would add another twenty minutes to get to Morrison from here. Cody's grills decent buffalo as well and we're here. Ambiance is way more casual than the Fort, as in Cody's is a bar and pretends to be a restaurant and dance hall, but still, the food is good. Guy who owns it is a friend. Alright with you?"

"Sure."

Cody's was exactly as the Colonel had described -- a bar with jukebox and a small dance area, no frills attached. Living in Colorado, Sam had gotten used to the glossy tourist "western" decor that littered Front Range watering spots, and with the award winning, or so they said, architecturally renovated 1880 bars and restaurants that populated the mountains. Neither was much to her liking. But Cody's was neither of those.

She sat down in one of the booths across from the bar, taking in the scene. The room was large and dark, the stone building clearly from the early days of Colorado prospecting. It had definitely seen better days, but the current owner was obviously trying to upgrade the place gradually. One side of the room was an enormous walnut bar, which to her now practiced eye, she assumed must date back from when the building was originally constructed, back from the when the first Colorado gold rush started. There was a huge mirror behind, taking up most of the wall. The ceiling was pressed tin, glistening as the light reflected from it. A jukebox with a small area cleaned of tables, clearly intended as a dance floor of sorts, sat behind the small tables that had been placed between the bar and booths that flanked the wall opposite the bar. She grinned. The tables were covered with tablecloths; small vases of flowers that were almost pathetically hopeful in their attempt to upgrade the place were carefully set on each one. Cody's was… real; in need of a spruce up, but still definitely real. She loved it. Trust the Colonel to run into such a find.

The Colonel took off his coat, hanging on the hook beside the booth. To Sam, he seemed unusually restless although it wouldn't be apparent to someone who didn't know him.

"Something wrong?"

He shrugged away her comment. "Nope. Not really. But I need to check in and make a few phone calls. Get me a draft and the special will you, Carter? I'll be right back. I don't want to use the cell."

She gave up wondering what had caused his distraction. He'd tell her when he felt inclined. When the waitress appeared, she ordered for him and gave the same order herself. So far, he'd been batting 1000 or whatever was a perfect score in baseball when it came to good choices today, why not go with the flow? She was sipping her beer when the Colonel finally returned; looking more relaxed than he'd seemed earlier.

"Everything all right?"

He shrugged. "About what I expected." He glanced around the room. "So, what do you think of Cody's?"

She raised her eyebrows mockingly. "Reminds me of my house. Good bones, but --"

He interrupted, smiling, " -- needs a lot of work."

"Exactly." She grinned. "Any good ghost stories related to Cody's? It must be 1860 construction or so. I'd expect a ghost."

"Carter, you have got to get over this 'ghost addiction' you've developed. It's scary. Not every place in the West has a ghost story. And as I've said about 17 times now, there is no such thing as ghosts. You don't have one."

She shrugged, grinning. He'd started the ghost story idea; he was going to have to live with the results of his actions. "We don't know that."

He sighed. "Ok, Carter, have it your way. There might be ghosts. But not everywhere. For example, I've never heard a single tale about ghosts at Cody's."

"Huh. Have you asked anyone?"

He grinned, clearly admitting defeat. "Well, no. But there's no mention of one on --"(a/n. there really is a site I keep referencing. FF keeps deleting the url when I upload.)

" ... 'deleted site .'"

"Hey. It's a good site. Very reliable. And by the way, I've submitted info to them about Goblin Manor. You should be listed any day now."

She stared at him, impressed by his managing to turn the tables on her once again. The last thing she wanted was a supposed ghost story about her house posted all over the internet. "You didn't. Tell me you didn't."

"Carter, of course I --"

"-- because if you did I'd have to shoot you."

"-- didn't." He smiled. "Wouldn't want you to have to put up with all those ghost hunters and all."

"Ah. Well, thanks, I think." OK, in that encounter, they were about even. She looked up at the waitress as the woman served their meals just then, curious, and also not wanting to admit defeat. "Does Cody's have a ghost?"

The dark haired slender woman in jeans rolled her eyes. "Haven't a clue. I just work here part time." She turned to the bar, her voice loud, projecting over the country music from the jukebox. "Hey, Roger. You gotta ghost here?"

The tall heavy-set man with a beard behind the bar shrugged. Big and burley, his salt and pepper hair tied up in a band, he looked like a biker who'd never gotten past the 80s. "Who wants to know?"

The Colonel raised his hand.

"That you, Jack?"

"Yeah."

Sam stared at the Colonel. "Poker buddy?"

"Sheesh. No, Carter. Not everyone I know plays poker. Gimme a break here. Roger's not the poker type."

"You've checked."

"Of course I checked. He's more the opera type, can't you tell?" He grinned.

She rolled her eyes, amused. "Oh yeah, sure. More like he could help me with my Indian."

The Colonel grinned. "So… into fast machines, Carter? I should have known. That was predictable. And, yes, Roger is into motorcycles, but trust me, he's also very much into opera."

Roger walked out from behind the bar and headed over to their booth. "Didn't see you come in, Jack. Good to see you again." He turned to her, smiling. "And you are?"

The Colonel interrupted, providing introductions. "Captain Doctor Samantha Carter, ghost hunter extraordinaire and my second in command; Roger Hanley. Roger is the proprietor of this fine establishment. Rog, this is Carter."

She rolled her eyes and Jake grinned. "Nice to meet you, Roger. And it's Sam."

"Likewise, Sam."

The Colonel smiled, digging in to his steak. "Have a seat, Rog, and grab a drink on me."

Roger grinned. "Don't mind if I do." He headed toward the bar, grabbed a beer and then sat down next to Jack. "How's the buff?" He looked down at their meals.

"Stellar as always."

Sam broke in, determined to pull the Colonel's bluff. "So, the Colonel says you have an interest in opera and in bikes."

He grinned. "Yep. Both work together, ya know? They're both about mathematics, mechanics and … just flying free." He shrugged. "Of course, cooking's on the same page for me, which is why I bought this place after I left the service. I was a chef in the Marines, stationed in …well, where's not important-- for most of my time. But even though I loved it, it was still pushing basic meals out for the most part; hundreds of personnel at each meal every day, so no time to do anything seriously interesting. But the experience gave me a love of cooking and of food. I hoped when I bought this place that I could do more imaginative stuff, and if that didn't work, it would still keep the dog and myself in leftovers, so to speak. So far, it's been going pretty well."

He shrugged. "So that's my story. You into opera and bikes, Sam?"

She coughed, regrouping, embarrassed that she hadn't believed the Colonel. She ignored his "I told you so" smirk. "I have an Indian. But I can't say I know much about opera."

Roger looked back at her seriously. "Then you're missing part of the Colorado experience. Central City, Aspen, the Denver Center, Red Rocks…music under the stars, with a warm wind blowing and quiet all around, except for the music." He grinned. "Met Jack up in Central City at one of the Verdi dos they were doing in… 94, was it?"

The Colonel cocked his head, remembering. "Yeah, I think it was." He grimaced. "Haven't been back there again. Can't say I much like what they did to the place, after gambling was legalized. The casinos don't add much ambiance."

Roger shrugged. "Good opera."

The Colonel stayed firm. "Good opera house and good opera company. Lousy ambiance these days. The town has gone to hell."

Roger grinned. "Glad to know you're still staying open about your opinion of things, Jack." He looked back at her. "How's the steak, Sam?"

She smiled. "Fabulous."

"Good." He looked back at the Colonel. "So, getting back to your original question, why are you checking out the local ghost tales? Some sort of Halloween fun and games?"

The Colonel shrugged. "Nah; nothing like that. Carter wanted to know if you have any ghosts, seeing as she's living with one herself and so she's curious; you know, anxious to meet other ghost owners, check out the dos and don'ts. Sort of a commiseration amongst the local 'Friends of Ghosts' and all type of thing."

She rolled her eyes to the ceiling, not even bothering to add anything to the Colonel's commentary.

Roger grinned at her. "Jack, you do have a way with words."

The Colonel shrugged and kept eating.

Roger coughed and then grinned again. "I don't normally talk about the bar's ghost, and I don't want it spread around, but I guess in this case I can make an exception. But yes, I do have a ghost. His name's Joe."

"Joe? Not a very scary name." The Colonel's tone was distinctly disdainful.

"Hey, I didn't name him."

The Colonel shrugged. " You could change it. Might make the story more interesting."

Roger grinned at her. "A man who does not understand ghosts."

She grinned back. "Obviously, although he talks about them enough. Still, I agree. Purely amateur knowledge."

The Colonel looked up from his buffalo steak. "I am here, you know."

"Of course you are, sir."

Roger grinned, and took a sip of beer. "Anyway, Joe was a miner murdered here in 1868, and rumor has it that there was lots of blood that gushed all over the bar. There's still a stain in one place on the walnut. According to the tales, Joe's head was severed from his body during the fight. He died on the spot and I guess decided to hang around. His murderer took a hike and was never seen in Denver again."

"Nasty."

Roger shrugged. "Yeah. Not a nice way to go out. But still, as ghosts go, not that I know many of 'em, Joe's a decent guy. Doesn't disrupt anything, keeps an eye on the property. It's kind of nice, like having a guard ghost, rather than a dog." He shrugged. "Of course, I also have Mikey, my dog, but they get along. Mikey was spooked for a while when he was a pup, but now he and Joe seem to have come to some sort of an understanding." He smiled. "I haven't had a break-in here since I bought the place three years ago and in this neighborhood, that's rare."

Roger cocked his head and looked over at her. "What's your ghost like, Sam?"

She sighed. "Don't really know yet."

Roger grinned. "Well, it does take a while to get the hang or hanging of them, so to say."

The Colonel groaned. "Needs work, Rog. Puns are not your specialty."

Roger smiled. "I try. Can't claim your expertise yet." He glanced at the entrance where groups of diners were starting to gather. "And on the topic of my expertise, if I want to make this place pay, I need to get back to work."

He stood, wandered over to the jukebox and put in some coins. "Have a few dances on me, would you Jack? Dancers add to the appeal of the place when the weekend crowd heads in looking for fun. " He grinned. "The first one's for Sam."

The Colonel looked up at that. "Rog, this isn't--"

Roger smiled as he headed back behind the bar. "No need. I heard you earlier. You know I'm former military. Sam's your second. You're her CO. Doesn't stop you from dancing together in a bar to help out a friend, his dog and his ghost. Does it?"

The Colonel stayed silent.

Sam broke in when the silence started to be uncomfortable. "No, it doesn't." Roger was just suggesting a simple dance, what could it hurt? And if there were any other possible motivations for why she'd accepted, well, she just wasn't going there.

She glanced uncertainly at the Colonel when he still didn't say anything. "Does it?"

He sighed. "Carter, you're either going to kill me from a heart attack because of your split second fixes or end my somewhat dicey career with a courts martial."

She grinned, assuming he was joking. "Really?"

He shrugged, looked down at the remains of his dinner, and then seemed to come to a decision. She was relieved when he grinned at her. "Really. But then again, either one seems like a perfectly reasonable way to go. I've been working on the courts martial myself for a while. Why not add to the accumulated evidence?"

"There's accumulated evidence?"

"Joke, Sam. Bad joke."

She grinned. "Well, neither seems likely. I think you can handle a dance without a heart attack, sir, after all there's no squadron of Jaffa around. And they can hardly courts martial us for a dance."

"A lot you know about it. C'mon." He stood up and held out his hand, waiting. He added dryly, "Wouldn't want to disappoint my good buddy Rog."

She smiled and grabbed his hand.

TBC…

A/N. This is the last fully finished part of this story, so it will be a while before more is posted ( plus, I'm going to be away for a while). I do have the rest plotted; and a lot of it is in draft. Many thanks for all of the comments, reviews, and alerts! And a special thanks to NiciMac, who has been very kind about reading and commenting on future plot. The comments you've sent have seriously helped me track the future direction of the story. Thanks so much. It's been really fun. Sam938


	20. Chapter 20

20. (Sam)

A/N. It has been a very long time ( like a year? ouch) since I posted this story. My sincere apologies for the delay. The tale is now complete. There are 32 chapters in total. I'll be posting one or two a day. FYI, the first 19 chapters were entirely in Sam's pov; which was really causing me trouble. I vary between Sam and Jack throughout the rest. I've indicated whose at the start of the chapter, as this is probably jarring when reading. Sorry; but if I hadn't changed the style I would never have finished, just run screaming from the room every time I worked on it, and it is ff afterall. Thanks for taking the time to read. I hope you enjoy the story. Sam938

--------

Two minutes into the dance, Sam rethought her perspective. Maybe she had made a mistake and the Colonel had a point about courts martial. Dancing was not a good idea.

Another minute in and she was sure. Dancing with her CO was very, very definitely not a good idea. Not good at all. In fact, if she were asked to testify under oath, she'd have to say that she thought dancing was a distinctly dangerous act.

Damn.

The problem was that dancing was …personal. It made you notice things, like how he smelled of pine and soap, how well they seemed to fit together, how his height was perfect because she could rest her head on his shoulder, how his hand gentled as he moved it against her back, positioning her for the dance, how the stubble on his cheek seemed oddly comforting. She'd never really understood the idea of a simple dance being seductive, or exactly what the term meant.

She did now.

So, the data was in. Dancing with your CO was a very bad plan.

The fact of the matter was that she'd lulled herself into a false sense of assurance. He was her CO. Of course she'd wanted to get to know him, and the good news had been that after the first few encounters, she'd genuinely liked him. She worked with the man practically 24/7. She known, or thought she'd known, his moods, attitudes, his approach to the world as much as anyone could. She'd been wrong. Maybe she did understand him at work, but if the last week was any indication, she was seriously ignorant about who he really was and how he interacted with people in his time off. And the man himself was more than interesting, and more than a CO.

He was… Jack.

And she'd thought she could deal. In fact, even this week she'd been arrogantly assuming that she could handle it all, that the attraction was just physical, and that that thinking about him only occasionally in private moments as 'eye candy' made the situation, if slightly off color, at least acceptable.

That thought had been as wrong and as superficial as it sounded. Jack O'Neill was a damned dangerous man, and she was insane to think that she could have dealt with the situation casually. The best thing she could do was to pull back fast while she still could with both of their dignities intact. How he would react to an … infatuated ---yeah, infatuated was a good word because she damned well had better not be going anywhere else, that was for sure ---subordinate who was clearly close to the edge was too embarrassing to contemplate.

She'd had a few odd moments of insanity in her past, admittedly, which didn't bode well for the future if she hadn't learned anything. There'd been Jonas after all. She groaned, remembering. Yeah, that had been a very bad idea.

Truth was, she'd never been particularly good at personal situations; professional yes, she'd been successful there, but personal relationships, personal anything, for that matter, had never been her strong suit. She'd always hoped for calm and order at home; instead her personal life usually ended up in complete chaos.

It had been going on as long as she could remember. Jacob had moved them every two to three years; her mother had tried, when she was alive, to instill a sense of security around the family, but it had been difficult. When she'd died, her father hadn't known how to try. Throughout college and then when she joined the AF, she'd moved around too often to establish a firm home base. When she finally realized that she was probably going to be stationed in the Springs and at the SGC for the foreseeable future, she had decided it was the perfect time to finally have a home. Hell, she'd even thought she might build a white picket fence, like her mother had had at the one home they'd lived in for over three years once. Talk about nuts…and yet.

She thought back on her decision to buy the house. It wasn't crazy. It should have worked. People bought houses all the time, without any incidents. Owning a house should have been simple. It wasn't like having a personal relationship that could turn upside down overnight; a house was an inanimate object, for god sakes. She ought to be able to have some calm and order. Instead, she had crypts, gravestones, mining tunnels, secret rooms, drug dealers, ghost stories, wackos wandering through the house at will, and outdoor lights that made no sense. So much for calm and order; ever since she'd moved in she'd been careening from one mess to another.

She sighed. If she wanted calm, she should have just stayed on base. Clearly, she was not meant to own a house.

She shifted from the Colonel, moving her head away from his shoulder.

He pulled her back, repositioning her in the dance, his arm against her back. "Don't think about it, Carter. It's not worth worrying over."

She looked up at him, worried that he could seemingly sense her thoughts. "I -- what are you talking about?"

"You shouldn't sell the house. It's good for you; you're good for it. Give the situation a chance. It'll all work out."

She wondered when, precisely, he had developed telepathy and hoped to heaven that it was only partial when it came to her.

"I wasn't thinking about selling."

He glanced at her with a knowing expression. "Yes, you were. You've been thinking about it in the back of your mind for most of the day."

She swallowed. "Okay, maybe it has crossed my mind." She tried joking to divert the conversation. "But given the IRS, I need to wait at least two years if I'm not going to take a bath on the sale."

He ignored the comment. "Why are you considering it?" His voice was low and he sounded honestly curious.

She paused, thinking. Knowing the Colonel, he wouldn't leave her alone until he had some sort of answer. She decided to give him at least part of the truth.

"I didn't expect the situation to be so unpredictable. I'm used to that at work. There, we never know what's going to happen. But at home…" She couldn't finish the sentence. "Truth is, I'm not sure what should be happening at home. But I did want some quiet. It isn't exactly working out that way."

He interrupted. "So, you'd hoped for calm and to be able to order things the way you liked. And what's happening now feels like it's out of your control."

She swallowed. "Something like that." At his knowing expression, she came clean. "I wanted a safe haven, away from all of the uncertainty we deal with everyday. I guess that isn't possible."

He grimaced. "No. It isn't. Things happen. We can't control life, and it's damned difficult sometimes."

He moved his hand on her back; the motion awkward and yet comforting, his tone gruff and resigned. "I'm sorry the house isn't working out the way you hoped."

Ah hell. She really was an ass. The man had done everything he could to help her with the house, and now he was feeling guilty because the situation wasn't living up to some damned fantasy she'd had.

Talk about having your head in the sand. The Colonel, jokes of ghosts aside, had warned her that something unusual had been happening at her house, and she'd ignored him. She hadn't wanted to hear it. Even this morning, she'd refused to tell anyone about the blonde guy being in the house last night out of some sort of weird hope that if she didn't mention it, then it wasn't true. She swallowed. Well, she could at least fix the last, and come clean about what had happened. He was only trying to help. Hell, even with everything he'd done, she hadn't even ---

"Colonel, I don't think I've thanked ---"

He interrupted her, his voice serious. "Sam."

"Yeah?" Something in his tone had her suddenly nervous.

"I don't need your thanks. I'm just sorry that the situation has come down the way it has. I—look, let's talk about this later. "

He gestured toward the kitchen, clearly intent on avoiding the conversation. "Roger clearly doesn't think we're living up to his expectations." And with that, he whirled her out from his side, and back in again, grinning.

Sam grinned back, slightly out of breath as they finished the dance. Who would have predicted that the Colonel knew how to dance? She sure wouldn't have, but there'd been a lot she'd been missing lately. She asked the obvious. "Where did you--?"

He interrupted, grinning, as he spun her out again. "Same place as you, Carter. Officer's training."

"Dancing isn't part of the curriculum."

He smiled, clearly remembering a joke. "Yeah, well, it was a required part of mine. The CO decided I needed 'civilizing'."

She really wanted to hear that story, but she stopped herself. The man was a master at tactical avoidance but she wasn't going to let him distract her. She needed to apologize and to thank him for his help. It was important. And she needed to tell him about her intruder last night.

"Sir, I really need to thank you."

"Carter –"

"No, let me finish, please. I know I've been a… bit testy… about the problems with the house, and you've done a lot to help. I should have listened to you about security around the place. Most of it's over now, but in the interest of full disclosure I think you need to know ---"

He sighed. "It's not over, Carter ---"

She looked at him curiously. "Well, not all of it. But I know that Daniel will track down Hayes story eventually, and that's another thing I ought to thank you for --- getting Daniel to research the place. But I need to tell you about the blonde guy."

He didn't seem to hear her. "—and the best place for this conversation is in the ---." He stopped suddenly. "What about the blonde guy?"

"The reason I knew he was an exact double for Hayes is because he was in the house last night."

"What?" The Colonel stopped in his tracks, clearly incredulous. "And you didn't say anything?"

She winced. "Uhhh, that'd be a 'yeah, I didn't.'" She grimaced. "Sorry.

"After I called you about Schroedinger last night, I tried to locate the source of the lights but there was nothing. When I came back in, I must have forgotten to lock the door and turn on the security system."

He stood still, his expression unreadable, waiting for the rest of the story.

"When I woke up later, the blonde guy was outside the bedroom door, staring in. He literally disappeared out of the house before I had a chance to catch him. That's when I noticed the lights outside again, and calculated that there must be a tunnel connecting to the house based on their location and the hidden room's. You know the rest."

He sighed. "And you didn't mention an intruder because…"

She winced. "Leaving the door unlocked wasn't exactly one of my better moments, especially after you've been…"

He interrupted."... after I've been a pain in the ass about it. Sam, I know I can be …"

"… overbearing?"

"Yeah, that, but…"

She interrupted. "All you've been doing is trying to help. And it must have been like beating your head against a brick wall. I mean, yes, I guess I was slightly annoyed with you and embarrassed about not locking the door, but the main reason I didn't mention it was because I thought if I ignored it, the problem would go away. Stupid."

He was silent, and then finally shook his head as if to clear it. "Nah, Carter, it's human. I do my best to ignore most of the problems you and Daniel come up with." He smiled. "'Course you know how well that works."

She grinned back, relieved that he wasn't angry. "Are you suggesting Daniel and I can be… overbearing at times?"

"I think my phrasing was a tad more descriptive." He smiled briefly and then turned serious. "So, just so we're clear, you're not going to go with the 'it was a ghost' routine again, are you? Because that is getting really ---"

She interrupted. "Yes, sir."

She clarified when she saw his expression. "That is, no, I'm not. There was an intruder, and I don't believe in ghosts." She paused, remembering. "But I'm sure he wasn't dangerous. In fact, I think he was trying to help." She swallowed. "I know it sounds crazy, but I would never have seen the lights, figured out where the tunnel was, or caught the dealers if he hadn't woken me."

"Carter, there is no such thing as a helpful intruder."

"This one was." She glanced at his expression, which was clearly disbelieving. "I'm serious, sir. He was very, very good. I didn't hear a thing until he woke me. And he waited for me to follow him and then just… disappeared. It was ---"

"---NOT a ghost."

"Yes, sir."

"Well, thank god for that at least." He grimaced. "But from the sound of it, I still don't think he's part of the main problem."

"What are you talking about?"

He stared at her regretfully, and she realized suddenly that her thanks weren't the only topic of discussion he'd been avoiding. "You know what's happening, Carter. You haven't wanted to think it through, that's all."

The dance finished, he released her and then grabbed their coats, leaving some money on the table. "C'mon. The truck's clean. We can talk about it on the way back to the Springs."

TBC..


	21. Chapter 21

**21 ( Jack)**

A/N. I'm delighted to know that, after all this time, people are still willing to read this tale. Thank you; that's really fun to know. This chapter does set the stage for the rest of the story, and has to be done if we want to get back to the real ghost problems... grin. Please do bear with me; this one was really tough to write. This chapter is actually dedicated to Nicimac as she convinced me to write it numerous times. Still not sure it works, but it's the best I can do. Thanks again. Sam938

------------

Jack started up the truck, focusing on the traffic as they headed back to the Springs. He waited silently. It was only a matter of time before Carter finally started thinking about the problem. And once she did, she was bound to come up with the scenarios he'd been playing out in his head for most of the day.

She shifted restlessly. "What do you mean that 'the truck's clean?'"

That was easy. "I checked it before we left, then when you were paying for your appliances, and again when I went to make the phone calls. It's clean. And no one's followed us all day." That was something he was certain about. He'd spent enough time in his life making sure he wasn't being followed to know when it was happening and when it wasn't. And this time, it wasn't.

She was silent again. He waited patiently, dreading the moment she finally focused. She was on Earth, for gods sake, buying a house shouldn't be a problem.

She finally reacted. "Why would you -- oh, hell. The lights. Someone besides the dealers has been watching me or the house."

"Seems likely."

"Why?"

He grimaced. "I'm not sure, Captain. But I have some ideas. What's your take?" Jack cringed mentally even as he said the words, but kept his expression noncommittal and stoic. He had to make her realize that she always needed to watch her back, that even on Earth she couldn't leave her military persona behind, that she always needed to be alert. Even on Earth. Hell. It was a hard thing to swallow. He'd lived with it most of his life, and it still annoyed him.

She shrugged, clearly uncomfortable. " This is … crazy, and outrageous, and ---"

He interrupted her. "Just …wrong. That's a given, Carter. But it's who we are."

His eyes on the road, he watched her through his peripheral vision, and saw when she absorbed and then finally accepted his meaning.

She rubbed her hand against her eyes. "Okay, so if someone is watching, they clearly want something. And there are only three possibilities. They're after something that was in the house before I came; they're after me personally; or want access to something they think I brought with me."

"Yeah, that sounds about right."

She continued, thinking it through. "They're not after something in the house that was there before I got there. It was abandoned for years and the drug dealers never bothered it. Anyone could have taken anything from it over the years. So, not about the house itself."

"Makes sense."

"So, they're after me or something I brought with me."

"Yep."

"Damn. Who the hell would ---." She stopped suddenly and stared at him, shocked. He could see when it clicked. "The NID."

He sighed. Well, it was out now. He turned his regret aside. He had to make her understand the situation. "Yeah, them. Could be that they have some inside help as well."

"An infiltration into the SGC?"

He grimaced. "It's possible."

"Why me? I mean, you leave your damned doors open every night, and no one's breaking into your house."

She stared at him, honestly confused. He realized, suddenly, that Carter really didn't get it. She truly didn't understand she had one of the greatest brains on the planet, and how much that was worth to both sides.

"Carter, my brain isn't worth much. Yours is."

"That's nuts. You know as much as --"

"You are the foremost expert on the Stargate. And the most brilliant astrophysicist on the planet and probably anywhere else in the galaxy." He grimaced. "Word does tend to get out."

"And you've been the leader of all --"

He broke in before she could get started. "Sam, I watch my back. I always have. I don't lock doors because I pay attention, all the time. You haven't been."

She swallowed. "You think they counted on that."

He really did not want to have this conversation, but he knew it was necessary. "Maybe." He swallowed. "And, there's another reason they might be after you."

She sighed, thinking it through. "Jolinar."

"Yeah, that."

"Like when they went after Teal'c."

He shrugged. "It's possible. But it's unlikely. Even the NID would think twice before kidnapping an Air Force officer on home ground."

"Terrific."

He continued. "Besides, what happened last night and today pretty much rules out that they're after you directly, at least for now. If they were, they'd have taken you out last night, or would have been following us all day. They weren't. They don't want you personally, not yet."

"How long have you been aware of this?"

"That there might be a problem?"

"Yeah."

"I've always been concerned about it, Carter. With the kind of work we do, and enemies we've made, there is no safe haven."

"How long?"

He sighed. "I told you before, Sam, glass doesn't shatter by itself. And building plans don't accidentally disappear from the city offices."

"Why didn't you say something?"

"I did. You didn't want to hear it."

She grimaced. "Yeah." She paused, thinking. "Still, both of those incidents could have been the drug dealers, not the NID."

He kept his eyes on the road, letting her think it through.

She sighed. "But even the dealers aren't that stupid. If they'd stolen the plans, they'd have known the tunnel connects to the house. They didn't know; so they weren't the ones that took them."

"Yep."

"The most likely scenario is that the NID stole them, looking for a way in. They found it. They were probably investigating the hidden room the night we heard the glass breaking. It was just bad luck on their part that they managed to break the glass while they were looking for a way in and we heard it."

"That's my take."

"Why get rid of the drug dealers? They were a great cover story."

"I don't think the NID intended to at first. You were there for weeks before any trouble started up. The dealers must have gotten a shipment in and got too nosey for the NID. So, they had to go."

"Why didn't the NID call the cops anonymously? Why alert me to them by shining the lights? Why did they want me to take the dealers down?"

"Carter ---"

She shook her head, ignoring the interruption. "Stupid questions. If I took them out, they assumed I'd think the disturbances were over with and I'd quit watching my back. If it was an anonymous tip, I'd want to know who called it in."

"Yeah. But they screwed up. They also assumed you'd think the lights were just part of the drug dealing operation. In fact, I'm guessing that there will be no more lights, and no more disturbances for a while. They want you to think it's over with, but we know better."

She grimaced. "I would have thought that if you hadn't figured it out."

He didn't say anything.

"What they hell are they after?"

"I don't know, Carter. Only you do. It has to be something you brought with you. What is that?"

"There's nothing."

He shrugged. "There has to be something. Your servers are connected to --"

She interrupted. "The servers are secure. There's no way they could get in."

"I know that." He swallowed. "But I wasn't sure the NID did. That's why I asked Griff this morning to check if there had been any nibbling at that particular bait. If we got lucky he might have been able to trace the attempted hacking back to the source."

"You asked Griff to do what? Why didn't you tell me about—"

He interrupted. "Give me a break, Carter. I'm telling you now. You just took out the dealers last night. I wasn't sure the lights didn't belong to them until they denied all knowledge. And even now, they could be lying."

"Why Griff?"

"No matter what he's told you, he has level 9 security clearance. He's done a lot of work for the AF, although not for the SGC. I knew he could track any attempted hacking, and I wanted to separate you from the house."

"To see what was the target."

"Yes."

"So that was the phone call you made at the restaurant?"

"Yeah."

"Did he find anything?"

He sighed. "There were some nibbles about a week ago. Then nothing. Griff couldn't trace them. He says they're very, very good."

"Damn."

"Yeah. Carter, is it possible that they've upped the ante because they can't get in virtually and are waiting until no one's around to get to the servers physically? Could they break into the SGC files that way?"

"No. There's just no way."

He shrugged. "Alright, then, to get back to the point, it's not you and it's not the servers. So, what are they looking for?"

"There's nothing."

"There has to be, Captain, because otherwise none of this makes sense."

"There's nothing." She stopped suddenly, her mind on overdrive. "Except… but that's not possible."

"What's not possible?"

He waited, relieved that Carter's brain was finally working on the problem. Once she focused, answers usually arrived with blindingly fast speed.

"What's not possible?"

She grimaced. "It's just that --- well, they might be after the plans for the naquadah generator."

"The generator's at the SGC. That doesn't make sense."

"I know, but it's the only thing I've been working on at the house, and not even that that much with all that's been going on since I moved in. But I can't see – oh, hell."

"What?"

"They're after the formulas, not the generator itself. "

"Isn't all that work as the SGC as well?"

"No. Not exactly. It's in my head when I'm working on the beta. I haven't written the math down anywhere except at home. I do the theoretical calculations at night after hours. It's – habit."

"Jeez, Carter. You keep it in your head?"

She shrugged. "Most of the work I do in the lab is applied --- well, engineering. I need quiet and time to think through the math. As I said, it's a pattern, a habit I've always had." She shrugged. "It's not that uncommon. A lot of –"

He broke in. "I get it. But it's still a habit someone knows about. So, it means there is a mole at the SGC."

She shook her head. "Not necessarily. The NID is probably watching all of us very carefully," she grimaced, "and I'm predictable. And only the NID would be interested in theoretical calculations."

"Yeah, I think you're right. It's right up their MO. They probably already have some naquadah; they just need your calculations to finish the job and then they'll have their own beta generator to do with whatever they like."

"But I'm nowhere near close to being done."

"They don't know that. Besides, this entire op reeks of stealth. Either they don't know that we found the back door from the tunnel into the house, or they don't care. They expect you to lock it up and forget about it now that the dealers are out of the picture. Then, the next time SG1 is off world, they'll have plenty of time to break in, get what they want, and replace anything that needs replacing to make it look like no one was ever there. As long as no one caught on, they could do that as long as it takes."

She grimaced. "So, they're assuming I'm an easy dupe and an easy target."

"Nah, Carter, trust me. Very definitely not easy." He grinned. "And anyway, now we know."

She swallowed. "Yeah, now we know." She paused, thinking. "It still doesn't explain the blonde guy last night."

He grimaced. "No, it doesn't."

"Do you think he's NID?"

He paused, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. "No. I don't think the NID is behind the ghost stories about your house or the sightings. The House had the reputation of being haunted long before you bought it."

She sighed. "Then what?"

"I don't know, Carter. He might be connected to the drug dealers, but Kazinski is sure they don't know about him." He paused. " I don't like that he was in the house."

She thought about it. "If he hadn't shown up, I would never have figured out that there was a tunnel into the house."

"Yeah. Well, you need to watch your back on that."

She grimaced. "So, what now? I'd like to get this over with. Somehow."

"I'm sorry, Carter. This can't be fun for you."

She shook her head. "No, actually, it's ok. I think I've had my head in the sand long enough about a lot of things. It's better to know what's up. And in this case, at least we have a chance to take down some of the NID. General Hammond's been hoping that we might be able to get our hands on another faction. Maybe this time we'll find out who's at the top."

"It's worth a shot." He paused, thinking. "But what we do next is nothing."

"What?"

"Carter, they think they've lulled you into a false sense of security. They'll lay low for the next few days to make sure. Then the next time SG1 is off world, they'll make their move. That's when we need to be ready."

"So.. lulled."

"Yep. Definitely." He turned the truck onto her street, and stopped in front of the house. "T, Hendrikson, SG17 and Griff and crew have been haunting the house all day. Let's see if there's anything else they've found."


	22. Chapter 22

**22. ( Jack )**

A/N. Thanks again for reading, for the reviews and for the alerts. I do appreciate it, very much.

-------

Teal'c was waiting in the foyer when they entered the house. Jack looked around, quickly scanning the area. At least ten of Griff's team and another eight members of the SGC were there, most in the kitchen. Griff was nowhere to be seen. He assumed he must be up in Carter's study, working on the servers. He gestured to her, and she headed up the stairs.

"T. Everything set? You've checked for bugs?"

"All is in place, O'Neill. SG17 has determined that the residence is not 'bugged' and have installed the requested surveillance systems at the entrances and at the mouth of the tunnel. Noah Griff's team has repaired the existing security system and the window. He is currently reviewing the access logs to Captain Carter's server."

"Griff's first name is Noah?" At Teal'c's raised eyebrow, he added quickly, "Never mind. Is Hammond on board?"

"He has been informed. He agrees with your theory that the NID is likely behind the disturbances and that they are liable to act next when SG1 is off world. Consequently, our next mission has been scheduled for Friday evening and recorded as such in the SGC rosters. Access to the roster is being monitored."

"Great. Thanks, T. That should give us just enough time for the NID to think they've fooled us and for us to set a trap. And, with any luck, figure out who at the SGC has been feeding them information."

"Indeed." Teal'c paused.

Jack glanced at him suspiciously. "What?"

"In the event that you may be incorrect, and Captain Carter is the target rather than technical data she has developed, General Hammond has requested that you remain on the premises throughout the evening."

"He wants me to literally watch her six?"

"That is correct."

"He does know about the surveillance equipment, right? And there is a team set up to monitor it?"

"Yes. SG12 will take first watch. However, General Hammond believes additional precautions are warranted. I concur. We do not know how many NID operatives are involved and cannot be sure they will wait until Friday."

Jack sighed. "I suppose not. But Carter is **so** not going to be happy about this."

"Tactical strategy dictates that reinforcements are essential when the strength of the enemy is unknown."

"Yeah. Well, you tell her that. I'm sure she'll be thrilled."

"As you wish, O'Neill."

"No, T, sorry. It's my job. I'll tell her. It's just that she'll probably see it as a … well, that we're…" He sighed. "Never mind. But trust me. She's not going to like it."

"I'm not going to like what?"

Jack turned, staring at Carter as she and Griff headed down the stairs. No question about it; Hammond's 'request' had raddled him. He hadn't heard them until Carter had spoken. He was way, way off his game. He grimaced, and turned the thought aside to gnaw on later. "Hammond thinks that ---"

Teal'c interrupted. "In the event that you may indeed be the target of the NID and as their current strength is unknown, General Hammond believes additional backup would be wise as a precautionary measure. He has ordered O'Neill to provide this."

Sam glanced at Teal'c and then at Jack. Jack swallowed, waiting for the inevitable recriminations. They never came.

She grinned. "So, sir, sounds like you're spending the night." She glanced at the couch, where Schroedinger had set up shop undistracted by the noise, enjoying an evening nap. "The cat gets first dibs, sir. You get whatever's left."

He stared. "This doesn't bother you?"

She shrugged, not quite meeting his eyes. "Why should it? 'Sound tactical strategy dictates ready reinforcement when the target is uncertain and the size of the enemy forces unknown.'"

He grimaced. "How long have you been listening?"

"Long enough." She looked up, meeting his eyes this time. "It's alright, sir. It's not your fault."

"I—oh hell." Somehow that just made him feel like it was. He looked back at her, regret in his eyes. "I'm sorry about this, Carter. "

And he was. It wasn't just that Hammond's order made it appear that the SGC questioned her combat skills, which had to hurt, no matter what she said; even worse, he knew from the look in her eyes that she understood the implications of Hammond's 'request'. If they were going to smoke out a mole at the SGC and at the same time convince the NID that they weren't on to them, it had to look like he was staying at her place either because she was a) "nervous", as in a basket case; or b) because there was something else going on between the two of them. In his opinion, both options sucked. Carter might not be special ops, but she was steady and strong. Damn it, just last night she'd taken out two perps twice her size. She didn't deserve anyone questioning her courage. And as for the second option… sure, they could sort it out after they caught the NID but until then the gossip would be off the charts. It had to be if they were to convince the NID and the mole that activity at Carter's place was just "business as usual" and still allow him to be onsite as backup. And seeing as they knew the NID would be watching the place, there was no way to keep his presence quiet.

The situation reeked. Hell, if they didn't catch the NID ops, both of their reputations would be up a creek without a paddle, headed for courts martial. Even if they did nail the NID, there'd still be some who would be willing to believe the worst. Hammond was out of his mind.

"I'll talk to Hammond tomorrow, Carter. I'll get it straightened out."

"You can't---"

He interrupted. "I can. If anyone asks, tonight's sleep over was because your CO was overly concerned about your injuries due to your taking down the dealers last night. That will fly. I won't let it go further than that."

She rubbed her eyes, considering his words. "Thank you."

He swallowed, and looked away, trying to find his way out of the mess, and then glanced at Griff, who had been quietly taking in the conversation. "So, you find anything weird with the servers?"

Griff shrugged, clearly understanding the need for a change in subject. "It's the same as I told you on the phone, Jack. There were some attempts to hack in about two weeks ago, but they were all focused on Sam's local hard drives; they weren't trying to break into the SGC computers. Nothing since then; although there were a few amateur nibbles two days ago. Nothing worth worrying about."

"So… "

Carter broke in. "So, it's like we thought. They're not after the computers or the data on them. Assuming they're not after me, then they *have* to be after my notes for the generator, sir. It's the only thing that makes sense. "

Jack shook his head, trying to absorb the idea. "Which are not on your computer?"

"No. I write theoretical calculations in long hand."

Griff grinned at his stunned expression. "Theoretical mathematical formulas don't translate well to code until they're finalized."

Jack just stared.

Griff continued, trying to clarify. "It's like pure architecture and design, versus engineering. You need the final architectural plan in order to begin to translate ---"

Jack broke in, slightly panicked. "Carter ---"

She grinned. "It's easier, sir. I write it out on paper when I can because it is just easier. Once I'm sure the ideas are correct, I translate them into code, provided of course, that I have the time and there's no immediate emergency."

He swallowed. "Of course you do." He couldn't help but ask, though. "All theory?" At her look he shrugged. "Okay, I know it's a weird question, and I'm the least likely person to ask, but ---"

She smiled. "No. Not all. Just this kind of theory. Trust me on this one, sir. I really believe this is what they are after. They want the formulas I'm working on that are on paper."

He sighed. "Okay, then. "

Griff broke the silence. "Jack, I'd like to send my team home now and head home myself if that's ok with you."

"Yeah, it is. Thanks, Griff."

"Not a problem. Sam?" Griff looked at her, silently asking if there was anything else she needed.

She smiled. "I'm good to go. The last trick you showed me was just – well, thanks. I'll help you head out."

Jack watched as they walked away. He sighed and then glanced back at Teal'c, trying to get back to the point. "Any news from Daniel?"

"He has been unable to locate the logs at the County Library. They have evidently been…misplaced."

Jack snorted. "Or more likely the NID suddenly remembered to cover their tracks."

"I believe you are correct, O'Neill."

Teal'c paused, and then continued, his mind clearly on other issues. "Major Fredrickson and I have completed the construction roster for the upcoming week. It is preferable that work on Captain Carter's house not be delayed due to these minor annoyances."

Jack grinned to himself. Only Teal'c would call a professional drug cartel and the NID "minor annoyances". But he got the hidden message behind the Jaffa's words. "Spit it out, T."

"Captain Carter is a capable and strong warrior in the war against the Goa'uld. It is unfortunate that she must shoulder the burden of discord in your government's factions when home."

Jack sighed. "I know, Teal'c. It's a damned disgrace that she can't even buy a house and enjoy it without having to watch her back. But we're on to them. We'll get them."

He paused, thinking. "You and Fredrickson schedule major muscle from the SGC for the week's… renovations?"

"They have been alerted. Major Fredrickson and I selected those we are certain are loyal to the SGC and whom we both believe are capable warriors."

Jack shook his head, thinking. "Hell of a thing to have to worry about." He grimaced. "I didn't expect Carter's renovation to result in the SGC needing to clean house. But it was probably just a matter of time before the NID infiltrated the SGC. At least this way, we might be able to bring them down."

Teal'c looked at him, considering. "It is possible."

Jack looked back at the Jaffa. Clearly Teal'c wasn't done with him yet. "OK, what else already?"

"Noah Griff told me of your discussion with Daniel Jackson and Colonel Carter this morning concerning the existence of ghosts."

"Oh, for crying out loud, Teal'c, not you too. There are no such things are ghosts."

"We have seen many things that cannot be accounted for, O'Neill---"

Jack interrupted. "We have never seen a ghost. They don't exist."

Teal'c continued. "I do not believe that you should dismiss the possibility of the existence of ghosts precipitously. However, whether or not you are correct is immaterial. The point I wish to make is that the individual I observed last Tuesday near the tunnel entrance who matched the description of Henry Hayes was highly skilled, O'Neill. He disappeared immediately when he saw me and I was unable to track him."

"Huh. Yeah, ok, T. I got it. Carter said the same thing. Sounds like the guy's a pro, but I don't think he's NID or with the drug cartel. To be honest, I don't know what he is yet."

Jack stopped suddenly. "Immaterial? Was that a joke?"

Teal'c simply cocked his head and refused to comment.

Jack sighed. He never would understand Jaffa humor. "Okay. Well, anyway, you're right. We need to keep an eye out for him as well."

"Understood." Teal'c paused yet again.

Jack grimaced. Teal'c on a roll was impossible to ignore. In fact, it was stupid to do so; of anyone he knew, Teal'c was a master at tactical strategy. One of the things Jack had learned over the last two years was that if Teal'c wanted to make a point, it was best to listen. "What else?"

"As you instructed, no one has ventured onto the grounds this evening." There was quiet disapproval in Teal'c's tone.

Jack winced and then responded. "I wanted to confuse the NID with all the bodies while we were putting in the surveillance system, not spook them away from the house. But you're right, T. They'll expect Carter and me to check out the property, given that she only caught the dealers last night. Anything else would look suspicious. We'll take a look around after you and the others take off."

"Given what we have discussed tonight, perhaps it would be best if I remained as well."

Jack sighed. "Nah. If you do that, they'll know we're onto them for sure. Thanks anyway, Teal'c, but nothing's going to happen tonight. They won't move in so soon."

"As you wish. I will alert the others that it is time to cease work for the evening."

"Thanks." Jack watch silently as Teal'c rounded up the SGC staff and they left for the evening, thinking all the while about what the Jaffa had said. Shrugging, he headed out to his truck to grab the overnight bag he always left in the back.

TBC...


	23. Chapter 23

23. (Sam)

A/N. Two this evening or I'd probably find a way to rewrite this scene and dither. Mantra, this story is done. I am posting. Done... grin. Thanks for any feedback you're interested in providing.

Griff gone, and the rest of the SGC left for the night, Sam started looking for the Colonel. She finally located him in the basement, double checking the locks on the entrance to the tunnel. "Everything ok?"

He stood up and wiped his hands on his jeans, not quite meeting her eyes. "Yeah. Look, Carter, about Hammond's—"

She interrupted. "It's really alright, sir. He'd have assigned backup no matter who it was."

"'Yeah, well…"

"I'm glad it's you." Oh hell, had she really said that?

His eyes darkened, and then he rubbed his hand over his face and looked away. "Sam…"

She broke in, trying to retrieve the situation. "I mean, I do understand why the General would assign you to…watch my back. I may be level three, but I don't have a decade of special ops under my belt. I 'm just sorry that you'll have to waste your time babysitting."

He stared at her, something unreadable in his eyes. "It's not a problem, Carter. "

Suddenly, she couldn't move, hell, she couldn't even breathe. There was just something in his expression…and then it was gone so quickly that she decided she must have imagined it. She shook her head, trying to clear it. The situation must be unnerving her more than she thought.

He looked away. "I'm still going to talk to Hammond tomorrow. Special ops experience, my ass. You can handle whatever the NID intends to throw at you and then some."

She felt herself flush with surprise and pleasure at his unqualified support. She didn't know what to say.

He continued, gruffly, his tone apologetic, "When I ordered you to get a life, I didn't intend for that to include my becoming a resident house guest and for half of the SGC to be wandering in and out of your space all hours."

She grinned, realizing suddenly that he was just as flustered as she was. "No?"

He stared at her suspiciously. "No."

"So…you weren't itching to get your hands dirty on renovating this place the minute you heard I'd bought it."

"I – no."

"Uhuh. Let me see… I think what you said was 'You do realize it's orange, green and purple inside and that the electrical system is shot to hell' and then..'good choice.'"

He scowled. "Quit channeling Daniel, Carter. It's scary."

She smiled. "My memory's pretty good all by itself, sir. And it wasn't your plan to help me 'get a life' by introducing me to Griff and getting to know the rest of the SGC on downtime, either, I suppose. I seem to recall you expected regular SGC parties."

He sighed, suddenly serious. "Okay, yeah, maybe I did think that you might enjoy that. But I never intended this to turn into the fiasco that it has. I'm sorry."

"Don't be." She stopped suddenly, realizing that he hadn't understood she was teasing him. "I .. sir..Jack, really. I do appreciate all you've done. I have enjoyed every minute of getting to know all of them." When he looked at her cynically, she continued, hurriedly. She had to make him understand. "Well, yeah, I could do without the drug dealers and the NID, but the rest has been great. There are terrific people at the SGC. I would never have understood just how great if I'd continued what I was doing, staying in the lab, staying out of contact. Getting to know Fredrickson, Reynolds, well, all of them, has been a gift. One you gave me. So, thank you for that."

He swallowed. "Sam.. I.. ah hell." He turned away from her gaze. "I can't---"

Somewhere along the line she'd grabbed his forearms and he'd let her. She stepped back, trying to ease the tension with a joke. "To be honest, I'm even looking forward to meeting Hayes."

When he looked back at her she realized that whatever he had been ready to say was locked down, held tight, and wasn't coming out. "No such thing as ghosts, Captain."

She ignored the reminder of their military status. Yes, he was her CO, but the last week had taught her a lot about Jack O'Neill. He was more than her CO; the last week had taught her that they could be friends outside the military construct. She could be both; subordinate and colleague; she wanted to be both. It was the most that she could have considering the circumstances. She wasn't going to let him retreat from their newly found friendship because he might be worried about her feelings getting out of hand or that she couldn't distinguish the personal from the professional.

"Of course there are ghosts."

He stared at her, clearly exasperated, distracted by her comment. "Carter… that's the third 180 you've done in 24 hours. Stop it. No ghosts."

She grinned, determined now to see it through. "My house, my choice, my ghost." She paused, and then added for emphasis, "Jack."

He rolled his eyes, clearly admitting defeat. "T apparently agrees with you; not to mention Daniel, Jim, Griff.."

"Teal'c?"

He paused, thinking. "He's unsettled about something around here. I'm not sure what, but it's making him antsy."

"Teal'c's never unsettled. Well, at least not often."

"I know." He shrugged, dismissing the thought. "He was pretty insistent that we check the grounds this evening, so we better not let him down."

She smiled. "Because an annoyed Jaffa is even ---

"Yeah. Scarier than a ghost."

They grinned at each other. Finally, the Colonel cleared his throat, breaking the moment. He gestured towards the stairs. "Go grab some flashlights. Teal'c's right; the NID's probably expecting us to walk the property. Let's not disappoint them. I'll be up in a minute."

She did as instructed and when he came barreling up the stairs handed him a light after he put on his jacket.

As they headed out into the evening, she couldn't help the slight shiver that went down her spine. Teal'c was right; there was something… off. She couldn't shake the feeling that something or someone was waiting.

The night was cold and crisp, her breath crystallizing in the evening air. The moon was hidden under clouds, making all dark. She glanced into the shadows in front of her, unable to see more than three or four feet, and turned on the flashlight.

They headed towards the tunnel entrance, checking for new footprints, but the ground was so broken up from the evening before that it was difficult to determine if any were recent. The Colonel checked the lock on the trap door, and then gestured to her to continue.

They headed around the property, checking the terrain. Sam shivered at a sudden chill, whether from the wind picking up again, or because she knew they were being watched, she wasn't sure.

Finally, they headed towards the gravestones and the crypt, their last stop on the walk.

The Colonel pointed his flashlight into the crypt.

Sam started. She held her breath, her heart racing, as she absorbed the sight in front of her.

A blonde mustached man, nearly a skeleton, his clothes and boots full of mud, lay back against the edge, his head at an unnatural angle, eyes shut, mouth hanging open. There was no blood, but his neck looked broken.

She stood ready, braced for action, and scanned the area around them again. "Hell. Is he dead?"

The Colonel glanced at her and then reached over the wall's edge to check for a pulse.

At his touch, the corpse jumped, and opened his eyes.

He stared at them, obviously annoyed, stretching his neck. "Of course I'm not dead. Hayes is dead, not me. Although you wouldn't know it with how much he likes to talk."

The man sat up and rubbed his arms, chasing away the cold. "I've been waiting for you. What's wrong with you people, out all night when you should be getting some sleep? Crazed; just crazed. I told Hayes I shouldn't bother with you, but he insisted."

He stood up and wiped his hands on his pants, talking to himself. "Yeah, yeah, alright, I'll get on with it. And yes, I'll warn them, but if they're stupid enough… all right. I get it. Quit griping."

Now that he was standing, Sam could see that the man was probably homeless, and had been so for a while. He was somewhere in his fifties, maybe sixties, it was hard to tell, and his gaze never rested in any one location. His hands and eyes moved constantly now that he was awake.

His gaze finally rested on the Colonel. "You're the Colonel. Name's O'Neill, right?"

The Colonel stared back. "Who are you?"

"Henry Hayes, of course. Can't you tell?" The skeleton cackled at his joke. He looked over to his left, to the open air. "Yeah, yeah, all right. I hear you. I'll stop."

He turned back to the Colonel. "Name's Henry Lanford."

"What are you doing here?"

He glared at the Colonel. "Stupid question. I told you. I was waiting for you. It took you long enough to get here. Hayes says I need to tell you you're being watched."

The Colonel shrugged. "Knew that."

Sam stared at him, surprised he'd admit knowledge of the NID to Lanford. "We did? Ah, you mean the drug dealers."

Lanford broke in before the Colonel could respond. "Not the dealers, lady. Besides you took them out last night, remember?" He looked at her like she was missing a few marbles. "You're a Captain, right?"

Sam stared and then nodded.

Lanford started mumbling. "Women in the military." He finally looked back at them." I mean the guys who were watching them are also watching you."

The Colonel stared him down, clearly unimpressed. "Knew that too, if you mean the men with the lights. Can you identify them?"

Lanford shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not." He turned and grumbled something into the air by his left side. "All right, all right, all right, already. " He looked back at the Colonel. "Yeah, I could probably do that."

"Why?"

"I told you. Hayes wants me to help."

The Colonel grimaced. "Not buying it. My guess is that you were getting paid by the drug dealers either in cash or in drugs to pretend to be the ghost of Hayes and scare people off the property, and when they were busted last night you decided to find another set of pigeons to pluck. It's not going to work."

Lanford glanced to his side. "I told you he was a hard ass." He groaned, listening to the wind. "I'm not...oh, just shut up. I'll do it if it keeps you quiet."

He looked back at the Colonel, standing straight, clearly insulted. "No drugs. Wouldn't touch 'em. Bad for your health. And for your information, I was here long before Larry and Moe showed up. Sure, they tried once to pay me to play Henry for them, but I made it clear that I didn't want anything to do with them. They left me alone after that." There was something dangerous in his expression, fleeting but there, that made Sam understand just why the dealers would have left the man alone.

"Larry and Moe?"

Lanford looked lucid when he finally responded to the Colonel. "The drug dealers, moron. What would you call 'em? There was no Curley, though, which was really a shame. I never knew their real names, like that mattered. I knew what I needed to. So Larry and Moe it was. They were stupid enough and it fit."

"Why the Henry Hayes act?"

Lanford bristled. "Who says it's an act? People see what they want to and seeing Hayes kept the riff-raff off the property. Besides, I spend enough time with the guy anyway. Might as well get some peace and quiet out of the deal." He turned and looked away again. "Just stop. I'll get to it.'

He shrugged. "It was a decent gig for a while. Larry and Moe were a pain in the ass but at least they were quiet and left me alone. Then the bozos with the lights showed up, right after you moved in."

He shifted his gaze from the Colonel to her. "Why you? What do they want?"

"I don't know."

Lanford looked annoyed. "You **ought** to know. Otherwise, why did Henry make me go to all this trouble? I've been watching all week. I had to lay low when the light bozos were around, but I did try to warn you about them when they weren't here. I saw you Wednesday, but you didn't come out."

His voice was whining. "It was damned cold Wednesday."

"You disappeared. Why didn't you talk to Teal'c on Tuesday when he called out to you?"

"Teal'c? Is he a big black guy?"

"I – yes."

"Thought he might be one of the light bozos. Didn't know he was one of yours. You have so much riff-raff wandering around mucking up the place how was I to know which was which?"

He rubbed his arms again. "It's been a zoo around here; a man needs some peace and quiet every now and then. Ever since you've moved in, the place has been a wreck. Can't get any sleep whatsoever. But you are a woman; can't expect much, I guess." He turned to talk to the air again, mumbling to himself.

The Colonel expression was unfathomable. "Could we get back to the point? As in, what you know about the 'light bozos', how much you want for the information and why you want to tell us about them?"

"I don't like them. Too slick by half. They're too smart to be shining lights around for everyone to see; must be doing it deliberately, which means that they wanted you to find Larry and Moe. Why, I don't know, but it can't be anything good. Larry and Moe, of course, were too stupid to figure that out. They looked for the light bozos but never caught up with them."

"Do you know what they looked like?"

"Larry and Moe?"

"No, the light bozos."

Lanford grimaced. "Yeah. There are three of them, all about 5'10", 170 or so. Military. At first, I thought they were part of the zoo you brought with you, but as they never went in the house, I figured they were renegade or something." He mumbled to himself. "Henry says to mention that they have a dark green jeep, Colorado plates. He doesn't remember the number."

"Why does Henry want you to help us?"

Lanford sighed. "He wants you to find his wife."

"Yeah, right."

Lanford turned to his left. "I told you they wouldn't buy this. OK,OK, I'll help them."

"Henry says he knew you wouldn't believe him. But he wants your guarantee that if he helps, you'll find his wife."

The Colonel grimaced. "Yeah, sure, whatever. Why were you in the house last night?"

Lanford turned away. "Don't know what you're talking about. That would be breaking and entering, and I'm a law abiding citizen."

The Colonel rolled his eyes. "Sure you are." He pulled out his wallet and handed Lanford a fifty. "You better come in the house. You'll need to identify them when we bring them in."

Lanford panicked. "Oh, no, not a chance. Those guys are dangerous." He stared at the Colonel. "So are you, for that matter, but Henry says you're a decent guy, and will let me get out of here. I'll check in once you find them."

"You're safer with us."

"Look, Colonel, I'm former military. That's why I decided to warn you, comrades in arms and all. I can take care of myself a lot better than you seem to be doing with the lady here. Find the light bozos and I'll be back."

Lanford looked at her. "Look out for the cat for me, will you? I saw that he decided to move in. He's better off with you than with me anyway."

"I will." Sam glanced at the Colonel, expecting him to restrain Lanford, but he just shook his head.

"Let him go, Carter."

"But---"

"He promised to check in later. Right, Lanford?"

"Sure, whatever. Can I get out of here now? Because as I told you, your friends aren't far behind."

"Go."

She watched as Lanford melted into the night, and then turned back to the Colonel. "Why did you let him go?"

He shrugged. "I think he's telling the truth, Carter. He's not connected and he's afraid of the light bozos, as much as he's afraid of anything. And we don't have the time to deal with him right now." He glanced at his watch. "It' getting late. Let's head in."


	24. Chapter 24

24. (Jack)

A/N at end of chapter. Sam938

Jack thought he had seen everything by now. Well, with the possible exception of a ghost. There were no such things as ghosts and he wasn't going to let Lanford, T, Daniel, and Griff drive him insane on that one. No, it was his CO and his second that were clearly in league to make him nuts. He just didn't see why.

OK, Hammond maybe, just maybe, he could understand. First of all, Hammond was itching to get his hands on the NID. He'd never gotten over the fact that they hadn't been able to take them down when they went after Teal'c. Jack suspected Hammond had taken that op personally. Additionally, the General had an un-admitted but obvious soft spot for Carter. And in this case, Hammond had a point. They did need to be careful. It wasn't an absolute given that the NID weren't after Carter; nor was it a sure thing that the group would wait until Friday night, when they thought SG1 would be off world, to move. So, additional security for the Captain in the form of a "when-out-of-the-SGC- full-time-bodyguard" made sense.

He just hadn't expected Hammond to make it him. You'd think the man had never heard of the SGC rumor mill. He'd confronted Hammond on the topic directly, telling him that his choice of guard dog should be rethought.

Oh, yeah. That'd worked.

"Jack, you're the only one I can assign that won't raise the NID's suspicions."

"I don't see it, sir. I'm the last person they'd expect to be regularly…uh…spending the night. It's a courts martial offense, and they know that. I'm her CO."

"Yes, you are, Colonel. Rumor has it that you have also been directing the work on her renovation every night for the last week, and are the last to leave, when you do, and the first to arrive."

Jack swallowed. "Sir, there's nothing—"

Hammond broke in. "I know that, Jack. But the NID doesn't."

"Sir?"

Hammond grimaced. "We need to use the rumor mill to our advantage."

"I don't see how—"

"Given the current gossip, your presence at the Captain's house will be unsurprising and won't raise a red flag with the NID. If I assign anyone else, they'll know we're onto them."

"It'll trash Carter's reputation. I'm not willing to --"

"Major Fredrickson and Teal'c have agreed to make sure that members of the SGC that we know are trustworthy are aware of the plan."

"Oh, that's just dandy." He swallowed. "Sir."

"Colonel, we both know that external monitoring from SG12 isn't going to be enough if the NID decide to move. Captain Carter needs back-up on-site. Even with her training and two years on SG1, she won't be able to stop the NID alone if they decide to take her out. They'll send their best. The only two members of the SGC that can counter that kind of attack single-handed are you and Teal'c. They've already gone after Teal'c. You're it."

Jack swallowed. "I don't think Carter's the target."

"Do you want to take that chance?"

"I -- No, sir."

Hammond paused, his voice quiet. "Jack, there's more. If the whole op goes to hell in a hand basket, the bottom line is that the NID will think they have something on you; something they could use. While **I** know that there's nothing irregular about your relationship, the NID doesn't. They'll see what they want to see. Your spending the night at the Captain's house for the next week will confirm their suspicions. And we might be able to use that later."

Jack grimaced, acknowledging the point and the logic in Hammond's argument, but using unfounded rumors about Carter and him to get a foothold in the NID later made him feel dirtier than he had in a long time. "I want it on record that I am protesting this decision, sir. Carter's worked hard to get where she is, and whether or not you want to admit it, we both know that any whiff of irregularity has an impact on women's careers in the military."

"Are you refusing the order, Colonel?"

He swallowed. "No sir, but I will do so if the Captain doesn't agree to the plan."

Hammond stared at him. "Fair enough. Talk to her and let me know. Dismissed."

He sighed. Clearly Hammond wasn't happy, but hell, he wasn't thrilled himself. "Yes, sir."

Hammond glanced up from the report he'd started to read. "Anything else, Colonel?"

He sighed. "Nah, it's just that Jacob's going to kill me."

At that, Hammond smiled. "I'll take care of Jacob, if it comes to that."

"Better you than me." He looked up at Hammond. "Uhh.. sir."

Hammond laughed. "Go talk to the Captain, Jack."

Just peachy. Visions of Carter, objecting loudly, ran through his head. Even though she'd been ok with him spending one night, assigning him as guard dog for a whole week was another thing entirely. She'd see it as an insult to her skills and an imposition on her independence, and she'd be right. More to the point, rumors of fraternization with her CO would hurt her career and she had to know that.

Oh, yeah, this was going to be fun. He swallowed. "Yes, sir."

Only Carter hadn't cared. He'd tracked her down in her lab, where she was, as usual, futzing with some incomprehensible doohickey. He'd spent ten minutes getting, or not getting, to the point, depending on your point of view, before he realized she was ignoring him.

"Carter, have you heard a word I've said?" This day just kept getting better and better.

She looked up, finally catching his tone. "Sorry, sir. It's just that this is …complicated and I –"

He interrupted. "What are you working on, anyway?" Ah hell. Had he really asked? He had to be out of his mind.

"The naquadah generator."

"I thought that was still in prototype."

"It is. I figure that if the NID has gone to so much trouble to get my calculations, I must be on the right track, so.."

"So you're trying to finish it up."

"Actually, I'm trying to figure out what it is that I've done correctly so that I can muck it up."

"Come again?"

She took off her goggles and then walked over to her laptop and closed a file. That done, she turned and looked at him. "If I know what works, I can deconstruct the formulas and write one that will send the NID off on a wild goose chase." She continued. "I thought I'd leave it at the house. If they do get in, all they'll get is bad data. I brought the real notes in this morning; I've been writing the code most of the day. Now I'm testing it."

"Good plan." Hell, he should have thought to lock down the real data himself. "There's no chance that they could get to it here, is there? I mean…"

"No, sir. I'm sure. It's secure."

"Good." He cleared his throat and then swallowed. "Carter, about this week... Hammond…"

"I expect he wants you to continue keeping an eye on the house," she paused, and then added, "and on me."

"Yeah. Uh, look, if this bothers you…"

"No, sir, it doesn't."

"What?"

"It's a sensible plan, sir. I want to get them as much as anyone." She paused, her mind clearly on something else entirely. "T says that he and Jim have lined up ten crew for this evening, including most of SG17. I thought Chinese might make for a change from the usual pizza and Mexican. What do you think?"

"I – Carter –"

She grinned. "Of course, we could always ---"

He interrupted. "Stop. Do you understand that Hammond **wants** this to look like we're breaking the frat regs? Because I don't like –"

This time she interrupted. "Of course I do, sir."

"Then why are you agreeing to this? It's going to damage your .. hell.. both of our reputations, if not careers."

She sighed and rubbed her lips together, thinking. "Any woman in the military will tell you that rumors and innuendo are just part of the package. At least this time, something good, like taking out the NID, might come of it. But if you're worried about what might be said about you, sir, then I can ---"

"No. I'm not. I ---jeez, Carter, I just…"

She smiled, clearly amused by how confused he was. Hell.

"It's not funny."

"No, sir."

"I mean it, Captain."

"Of course you do, sir."

He stared at her suspiciously. "What?"

"You know, it could be fun, sir."

"How's that?"

She smiled, a full-blown Carter smile that he swore she only used on him, and then only to get him to agree immediately to anything she suggested, which, he admitted, he always did. He sighed, acknowledging defeat. "I can take it, Carter. What's the plan?"

"Well, I am looking forward to finishing the kitchen this week, sir, and the company would be welcome." She paused and then continued. "And I was thinking that it might be fun to finally see how you made that pasta dish you served at your last SGC party. We could put it together at your place and then bring it back to the house for the crew."

"You want me to make pasta for twelve people?"

She tilted her head, her eyes twinkling, and refused to repeat the obvious.

"Of for…" He stopped, and stared at her seriously. "Are you absolutely sure you're alright with this, Captain? Because if not, I'll talk to Hammond."

She stared back, her expression wistful. "Yes, sir, I am." She raised a hand, stopping his next comment mid-stride. "There's not much choice. If I ever want to be able to live off base again without constantly watching my back, we have to get to the bottom of this problem. And although this may have started out because you ordered it, I have enjoyed…'getting a life'. I'll be damned if the NID is going to take that away." She shrugged. "It may not work, but it's the best shot we have."

"I – okay." Hell, what else could he say? She was right.

She turned to the generator, her mind clearly returning to the calculations he'd interrupted. "If it's ok with you, I'd like to get back to the ---"

"Knock yourself out, Carter. I'll see you later."

"I'll be at the house by six." She suddenly looked up. "Sir, would you mind picking up the Chinese? That way…" She gestured towards the machine.

"Yeah, sure. Chinese. Six. Twelve people. Got it." He was clearly out of his mind.

Somehow, he found himself outside her lab and staring at her now closed door. The whole thing was just too confusing. Grimacing, he decided to go find Daniel. Maybe he could figure her out.

Jack finally located Daniel in his office, papers strewn all over the desk, the floor, the chairs, well, every available surface. He was staring intently at his computer, scribbling something on the pad next to him and talking to himself. Oh yeah, good day.

"Daniel."

With that, Jackson looked up. "Hey, Jack."

"Any word?"

"Huh? On what?" He didn't get a chance to explain before Daniel focused and realized why he might be here. "Oh, you mean on who's been researching Hayes House at the Library. We found the roster; it 'miraculously' came to light again. Guy's name was Neal Dorland."

"And you didn't think it might be good to mention this because?"

"Name was a fake. There are no Dorland's affiliated with the Air Force, the NID, or any other government agency in the SGC database. There is a Neal Dorland in Florida, retired plumber, but he's eighty."

"Terrific."

"Yeah, well, only to be expected. We'll keep looking. Christine thinks she remembers him, now that we have a date and time that he was there. Hammond authorized a sketch artist to talk to her to see if we can get a make."

"That's just peachy."

Daniel turned away from his notes and stared at him. "What's with you?"

"Nothing."

"Is too."

"Not."

"Jack, **what**?"

He shrugged, trying to avoid the question. Daniel stayed silent, waiting. Finally, Jack gave in; after all, he had come to Daniel to get any intel he had.

"I want to get this over with, that's all. My staying at Carter's isn't going to help her reputation any."

"How so?"

Jack stared at him, exasperated. "There are rules against fraternization, Daniel. It could cost her her career."

"I doubt it."

"Oh yeah, and you're a real expert on all things military."

Daniel ignored him, refusing to take the bait. "What does Hammond say?"

"Hammond's the one that ordered me to watch her six."

"What does Sam think?"

He sighed. "She doesn't seem worried about it."

Daniel leaned back and stared at him. "Well, then, there you go."

He stared back, annoyed. "What else do you think she could do?"

Daniel shrugged. "Refuse the order. Hammond can't make her let you take up housekeeping at her place on her downtime. Ask for someone else. Insist on taking them on alone. Return to base and let SG12 take them out when the NID thinks the house is abandoned. She has choices, Jack. Evidently she decided that you were the best option, although I have to admit that, given the way you've been stomping around here like a bear with a sore paw, I do wonder about her sanity."

"A lot you know about it."

Daniel sighed. "Jack, I know this is awkward. And yes, there are rumors about you and Sam but only amongst those we don't trust. That's the point. We want to smoke out the mole. Fredrickson, Reynolds, Dixon, SG12, hell, most of the base that we do trust completely support the plan. You and Sam have a lot of friends here, and I think they're taking it personally that the NID has gone after her and you indirectly. They want to take them down. There'll be no flack when this is over."

He sighed. "Maybe."

"No maybe. It's a sure thing. In the meantime, you might want to consider the phrase 'Methinks he doth protest too much.'"

"What the hell are you rambling about now?"

"Shakespeare."

"I know it's Shakespeare, Daniel. Hamlet. Act three. And you've misquoted. It's 'The lady doth protest too much, methinks.' What are hell are you talking about?"

"I was paraphrasing." Daniel stopped cold and stared at him. "You know that?"

Jack glared. "Of course I do. Anyone who lived through high school English knows it."

"Uh, yeah… but I mean, you're admitting it??" Daniel turned back to his terminal, mumbling. Jack thought he might have heard something like "worse than I thought" but he ignored it.

"Could you just get to the point?"

Daniel seemed to come out of some sort of funk. "Okaay…let's try this one. 'Where there's smoke there's fire.'"

"Quit with the damned clichés, Daniel. Spit it out."

Daniel sighed. "The point is that if you keep acting like there's a problem, people may begin to believe it, and then you **will** be hurting Sam's and your careers."

"I – damn."

"I'm right and you know it. Look, there's nothing going on between you two, right?"

"I – yeah." Sure. Sure there wasn't.

"And you like Sam, I mean, enjoy her company… uhhh.. as a friend and colleague."

"She's my subordinate, Daniel."

"Oh for… do you like Sam or not?"

"I guess."

Daniel sighed. "Yeah. You know, they really don't pay me enough for this. Okay, and you like remodeling the house, right?"

"Yeah, it's ok."

"And if circumstances were slightly different, you'd be chomping at the bit to bring down the NID and find the leak in the SGC, right?"

Jack sighed. "Yes."

"Then just go with it, Jack. Enjoy what you can while you can. Life's too short to worry about what ifs. Trust me, I know."

Jack turned and walked away. Daniel, damn him, was right. He needed to get a grip.

Daniel couldn't let it go, though. "If you don't believe me, talk to Reynolds. He's as military as you get."

He slammed the door on his way out.

Jack rambled back to his office, deciding that, for the first time in his life, he actually saw the point of paperwork. Especially if that meant he could lay low and lick his wounds. Daniel would accuse him of sulking, but damn it, Daniel wasn't around and it was none of his business anyway. He wasn't as oblivious as Daniel seemed to think he was. He knew he was overreacting. Sure, he was concerned about Carter's career, but he also knew himself well enough to know that that was just the tip of the iceberg.

Unfortunately, Daniel, damn him, was right. There was a lot of smoke, at least where he was concerned. He … liked Carter. A lot. And what should have been a casual, quiet, private and completely innocent opportunity to get to know her better while helping her remodel the house had turned into a public debacle of immense proportions. He was going to have to watch literally everything he did from now on, or things were going to be really, really uncomfortable for both of them. Damn it anyway. What was done was done. But when he finally got his hands on the NID jerk that thought of this little ditty, blood was going to be spilt.

In the meantime, there was at least one thing he could do. He began checking military personnel databases to see if there was any evidence of a Henry Lanford. The guy claimed to be military; it was possible he was telling the truth on that, and if so, he might be connected to the NID, although Jack's gut instinct told him that Lanford was clean; crazy but clean. In any case, he needed to find out.

An hour of research later, he realized he didn't have much more than when he started. There had been a Major Henry Lanford in the Air Force; a lifer who was decommissioned in the late 80s, over a decade ago. The man's file reeked of special ops; Jack swore it must be as classified as his own, and that was saying something. No photograph, little history, and most of that blacked out. No known address. The guy had apparently retired and then disappeared off the face of the earth. There was no way to tell if he was connected to the NID or not or if Sam's resident homeless guy really was Lanford. But if he was, he probably wasn't NID. It didn't make much sense to warn them, after all. Damn.

He was distracted by a knock on the door.

"Come."

Jim Reynolds wandered in, taking in the view. "Whoah. That's gotta be a first."

"What?"

"Are you actually doing paperwork?"

Jack scowled. "Quit channeling Jackson, Jim. Carter already has a lock on --- never mind." He stared at the man suspiciously. "Daniel send you?"

Jim shrugged. "Actually, I wanted to let you know that Colorado Ironworks says that Sam's wood burner is rehabbed and ready to go. They want to deliver tomorrow."

"Fine."

"I set it up for around six."

"Carter know?"

"I couldn't find her. She's not in her lab. I thought you could relay the message."

"Yeah, sure you did."

Jim didn't say anything.

"What?"

"Jack, I'm damned sorry for all this mess, but we'll get them. You have my word."

"I – thanks." He waited, expecting Jim to head out, but the man clearly had no intentions of leaving. He sighed. "What else?"

Jim looked at him carefully, his tone mild. "Jackson did send me. Seemed to think that you put more credence in the military opinion than in his."

"Daniel's too nosey for his own good."

"That's what I told him. But you know Jackson."

"Yeah."

"He has a point, though."

Jack sighed. "And that would be…"

"He **doesn't** understand the military."

"Daniel actually admitted that?"

"Yeah. Interesting, huh?"

Jack found himself grinning back at Jim, the man's eyes twinkling with amusement. "Has to be a first."

"Yeah." Jim's face took on a thoughtful expression. "But to give the man credit, I think he meant well." He paused, clearly choosing his words carefully. "There isn't a man or woman on this base loyal to the SGC who doesn't understand the need to bring down the NID and smoke out the mole. And Hammond's plan is the best way to do it."

"If you say so."

Jim grimaced. "Jack, it'll work out. Sam Carter's pretty popular around here; enough so that it makes up for your patented growl."

"Thanks a lot."

"Anyone who knows you both knows that you're too damned honorable to cut any corners."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Just that sometimes I think the Air Force has too many damned regulations."

"Yeah, well, they're there for a reason."

Jim cocked his head, thinking. "Yeah, they are. And speaking of regulations, one of them is tours of duty rotate regularly."

Jack stared at him. "Your point being…"

"Just saying. Nothing's permanent in the military. Nothing. I've always found it easiest to just take each day as it comes."

"Jim…"

"Jack, let it go. It'll work out one way or another. And in the meantime, we can at least make sure Sam gets the home she wants."

Jack sighed, and gave up worrying. "Yeah, we can at least do that."

He glanced down at his watch. "Oh, hell."

"What?"

"I have to go. Carter wants me to pick up Chinese for twelve. She expects it by six." He looked up and caught Jim's grin, quickly hidden but not quite quick enough. "Don't start."

Jim grinned, openly. Jack scowled at him, but that only provoked a laugh. Jim raised his hand in defense. "Not starting."

"Good."

"Not saying anything."

"Oh sure you're not."

"But, you know, Sam did mention that you ordered her to get a life."

"Told you that, did she?"

"Yeah." Jim didn't miss a beat. "Guess you didn't realize that that meant you were going to get one too."

TBC...

----------------

A/N. I have to say that I am really enjoying reading the reviews on this story. Thanks so much!You guys are a lot of fun.. grin.

Also, more seriously, a caveat with this chapter. I normally research everything pretty carefully to make sure it's possible. In this chapter, I didn't ( she seriously ducks) research whether or not it is really true that tour of duties can be negotiated in any way, shape, or form when they are stateside. If there are any military out there reading, I really would like to know the answer, and I apologize if this potential inaccuracy is in any way really annoying. Thanks. More to the point, thank you for all you've done, on this 11-11-2009.

Sam938


	25. Chapter 25

25.( Jack)

Jack winced as he watched Karl Howard take off in Jack's truck wearing Jack's parka, the hood covering his face. He glanced at Carter, and scowled at her amused expression.

"I'm sure your truck will be fine, sir." Her voice was barely audible, a whisper at best.

"Yeah, right." He sighed. "Remind me again whose bright idea this was."

She grinned. "Yours, sir."

He grimaced. "Smart ass. I seem to remember Hammond, Daniel, T and you had some input as well."

"Just added some finishing touches, sir."

"Yeah, sure." Problem was, she was right. He had planned the op. Unlike Hammond, he hadn't believed the NID would strike during the week, and he'd been proven to be correct. There'd been no sign of them whatsoever; no lights, no disturbances, nothing. Even Lanford was gone; he'd just melted into the night. The NID were clearly waiting for SG1 to go off on their next scheduled mission, just like he'd predicted. So, they'd set them up. He really should have thought of a better plan, though. He grimaced, remembering Carter's amusement when he told her his idea.

"So, in answer to your question, now we set a trap. SG1's been assigned to gate out to P3X797 at 2200 Friday, which will be 0800 on the planet. Recon work. "

She thought about it. "797 has been delayed on the roster for a while. It's got no breathable atmosphere, but does have some indications of possible naquadah readings."

"Yep. And with your progress on the generator, it turns out you need more of the material."

"Of course I do."

"Yeah. Of course, with no oxygen on the planet, the mission is going to require full Hazmat gear."

"Of course it will. Who's really headed out to 797?"

"Teal'c will be going, as no one could mistake anyone else for him even in full gear, and then Karl Howard and Anthea Dickson. Daniel's working on the artifacts SG7 just brought back. He won't be needed."

"Howard is about your height and weight, and Anthea is about mine."

"Mistakes can happen, especially in full gear."

"About that. How are we making the transfer?"

Anthea and Karl will be working on the house on Friday, along with most of Griff's crew, Teal'c, Fredrickson, and SG17. When it's time to leave, Karl and Anthea will take my truck and take over as you and me. With everyone else leaving at the same time, it will be easy to miss one or two bodies that stay behind."

"Which gets everyone, including you and me, supposedly out of the house and out of the way, and if the NID is monitoring missions and there's a mole at the SGC, assures them that they are free and clear to get in the house."

"That's the idea."

She paused, diverted. "You're letting someone drive your truck?"

He winced. "Good cause."

She grinned, thinking. "Why leave Daniel at the SGC?"

"I want him watching for the mole. Siler and Harriman are on it as well. It's probable that whoever it is will try to contact the NID to confirm that SG1 is off world and the house is empty."

"I see. And we are going to be?"

"Investigating your ghosts, Carter. Just investigating ghosts. They happen to be of a different variety than the paranormal type. With any luck, the spooks at NID will be chomping at the bit and decide that Friday's the night to explore their options, given that you're officially away and so am I. And you been making so much progress on the generator, they must be ...dying to get going."

She grinned. "Bad joke, sir, but it sounds like a plan."

"Glad to hear you approve."

The only problem was that Karl had his truck. His truck. His beautiful, newly overhauled transmission truck. The truck that had taken him three months to find; the "perfect model, make, year and mileage truck". That truck. He really should have come up with a better plan.

He sighed and got over it, assessing their current situation. All of Griff's crew and the SGC staff had left the house in the last ten minutes. Howard and Dickson had been the last, Dickson dressed in Sam's clothing, only her blonde hair visible, escaping from her winter hat. The house was in darkness and locked. Sam and he were armed and alone, invisible from the outside. SG12 was ready to supply back-up if the cameras went hinky or when contacted.

The question was which of the doors the NID would try and how long they'd wait before attempting the break in. Jack thought it through. It was unlikely that they'd go for the front or back doors; they could disarm the alarms eventually, but it would take time and their chances of being seen by an accidental observer too great. Now that the dealers were gone, the best option was entering through the tunnel and the cellar room. The cellar door was bolted, but with enough manpower, they could break through, and given that the NID expected the house to be empty all night, they'd have time to replace anything that needed repair.

Still, all things considered, the best observation point was the living room. Sam and he could stay low, out of sight, and still have visual access to both the front and back doors. And they would hear any activity in the cellar below long before the NID finished breaking in.

He silently gestured to Carter, and settled down on the floor between the couch and the wall. Anyone who looked into the room would see an empty space.

He leaned back against the wall, thinking. He'd never expected to get so caught up in Sam's remodel or the events of the last week. He glanced at his companion. Her head was back against the wall, resting. She looked as tired as he felt, and hell, they both had every right to that. They hadn't had much sleep all week, and Sam still had the bruises from taking down the drug dealers the weekend before. He stared at her carefully, noting the dark circles under her eyes, and the way she held her arm carefully against her bruised ribs.

God, she was beautiful and he really had it bad. Which was a complete disaster. He was her CO, for heaven sakes. It had caught up with him before he'd known what was happening. He enjoyed her company, her smile, the way she sparkled when enthusing about a new idea. He'd already respected her as a colleague, scientist and soldier before they'd started getting to know one another outside of work. He'd thought they could be friends. He sighed. He'd always been certifiable. This was just another case in point.

He should never have agreed to Hammond's order. The last week being around her nearly 24/7 had just cemented what he'd been trying to ignore; that he enjoyed her company way too much than was healthy. He'd tried to stay out of the work at Sam's place in the evenings at first, claiming that he had responsibilities at the SGC, but that'd stopped after T had given him "the look" and Jim had ignored his complaints and put him on the infamous kitchen remodel roster, now expanded to include the living and dining rooms.

So, he'd spent his days sleeping in his office at the SGC so as not to raise suspicions, and the nights awake in Carter's living room, watching and waiting in the darkness after the rest of the SGC had left. She'd taken to keeping him company until about 0100 each night, and when he'd suggested she'd be better off getting some rest, she'd simply smiled, mumbled something about "making it look good" and ignored him. When she had finally disappeared each night, he'd felt alone somehow; not that that made much sense. But there it was. He'd even taken to liking the cat's company, and hell, how pathetic was that?

He stared at her in the darkness. Carter was different somehow. He thought back on it; she'd changed after the last weekend when they'd gone to Denver. She was lighter, more cheerful, her smile breaking out with regularity to light up world around her. He couldn't quite put his finger on what was different; but she was. She wasn't worried anymore about the house or the remodel; she didn't even seem to care about the NID. He grimaced. And she and Daniel were really going overboard about the ghost.

The thing was she seemed like she was enjoying herself, interested in getting to know the members of the SGC and Griff's crew who came by every night. And somehow she'd dragged him along in that experience. Even he had gotten sucked into the madness that was the remodel. The evenings had been a lot of fun. Hell, she'd even talked him into making pasta for fifteen at his place and dragging it over to hers. Certifiable.

To be honest, she seemed happy, happier than she'd been since he met her. And he wanted badly for her to be happy. He wanted to be the reason she was, but that was a thought best left untouched.

He turned it away and instead focused, his mind rerunning scenarios on how to take out the NID and at least make sure she had the home she wanted so much. He shifted, settling down. It would take at least an hour for "SG1" to get to base, get rigged up and gate off world. And probably another hour before the NID decided the coast was clear. They had a while to wait.

Two hours later, Jack heard the unmistakable sounds of movement in the cellar room. He signaled SG12, three clicks breaking radio silence, to set up position outside the house.

He looked at Carter. She stared back calmly, waiting. At his signal, they headed down the stairs, guns holstered but ready. Hammond didn't want any blood spilt, if possible.

They took position on either side of the cellar door.

The NID didn't keep them waiting.

Jack bulldozed into the first man through the door. A right uppercut to his jaw left the man stumbling, blood running down his face and arms. The agent steadied and came back at him. Jack flipped him and smashed his head into the floor. This time the man went down for good.

He watched through his peripheral vision as Carter went after a second man, bringing him down with a well-aimed kick that left him screaming in pain on the floor.

Jack headed into the black of the tunnel. Lanford had said there were three, and right or not, it was the only intel they had. He headed to the bend, twisting into visual range of the rest of the tunnel, but out of sight to anyone looking in. The NID agent was there, flattened against a wall, waiting.

Jack took a flying leap and landed on top of the man before he had a chance to react. Unconscious, Jack checked him for weapons and then pulled the man's belt from his pants and cuffed him, securing the perp.

He started to stand and then stopped. Someone was behind him, near the entrance to the tunnel. He turned quickly, pulling his gun, and watched, stunned, as Lanford made contact with another NID agent with a solid right punch.

The agent went down.

Jack stared at Lanford. "Thanks."

Lanford shrugged, but there was a gleam of sanity in his eyes for a moment.

Jack thought about it. Lanford must have been Special , both he and the NID agent would have known the man was there. It was that, or he really was a ghost. Jack winced; Carter, Teal'c and Daniel really were starting to drive him nuts.

That didn't explain, however, **why** Lanford was there. "Why did you come back?"

"Henry wanted me to tell you I miscounted. There were four."

Jack stared at the scene around him. "So there were."

Lanford looked around, his expression serious and almost sane. "You have back-up ready, sir? Because these two are out temporarily, but –"

Jack glanced at him, and then jerked out of his funk. He hit the radio on his shoulder. "Wilson, it's SG1 niner. We've secured the area. Four perps out cold. Any more out there?"

"Negative, Colonel. It's all clear. Coming in."

"Roger that, SG1 niner out."

Jack looked at Lanford, who was watching the NID agents, ready to move if they woke up. "Special Forces, Lanford?"

The man glanced back at him. "Yes, sir. Cambodia."

"Where were you stationed?"

"Need to know, Colonel, and you don't ---"

Jack sighed. "Yeah, I don't need to know." He shrugged the conversation away, trying to focus. It was just… too… weird. "Move that one back into the cellar. I've got this one. I want them all secured in the same place and I need to check on Carter. The other two are in there with her, and one's in pretty bad shape."

Lanford followed the order. "The Captain can handle herself, Colonel."

Jack stared at him. "How do you know?"

Lanford ignored him.

"You've been watching her."

"I already told you that. I've been watching all of you. Can't say I'm impressed, though. Except for the Captain. Pretty good, for a woman."

Jack thought it through. "You were in the tunnel last weekend when she took out the dealers. That gust of wind ---"

Lanford looked up at that. "Someone needed to watch her back. I tried to warn her, but that lady's got a mind of her own. So, yeah, I decided to follow up on what was going on in the tunnel. I opened the trap door Larry and Moe had closed behind them, and that must have spooked 'em. That, and the cat came with and got underfoot. I didn't notice him at first. Anyway, she had it under control. Where were you? You're her CO. You should have been there."

Jack grimaced. "Yes, I should have. Thanks."

Lanford stared and then finally nodded. "Keep her safe, Colonel. The bozos are damned good. You may have stopped them for a while, but eventually they'll try again."

Jack swallowed, acknowledging the truth in what Lanford was saying. "I know and I will."

Lanford's eyes unfocused suddenly and he began muttering. "And find Hayes' wife. He's driving me nuts about it."

Jack grimaced, watching Lanford's transformation from lucid to crazy, dismayed at his change in demeanor. "We'll find her. Tell Henry he has my word."

Silent, they moved the men into the cellar room. Carter kept her eyes on the first NID agent he'd taken out. Jack glanced at her and she shook her head. He checked the agent she had taken down; he was unconscious, but breathing.

SG12 came barreling through the tunnel door, guns at the ready.

"Stand down, Major."

Wilson grinned at the scene and motioned for his men to follow the order. "Nice work, Colonel."

"Yeah, thanks."

"General Hammond wants these guys taken to the SGC for questioning." Wilson bent down, examining one of the agents. "Looks like they'll need a trip to the infirmary first."

Jack just shrugged and then looked up. "Lanford, go with --- where is he?"

Wilson stared at him. "Who, sir?"

"Blonde guy. He was --- fan out. Check the tunnel and the house. 150', 5'10", dangerous. I want him brought in."

Wilson gestured to his team and they began to move steadily through the rooms. "There's no way out, Colonel. We've got all the entrances secured. We'll find him."

Jack glanced at Carter. "Captain, did you see ---"

"No, sir. Didn't see him. Not this time."

"He must have left through the tunnel. He couldn't have gotten past us."

Wilson looked at him strangely. "Negative, Colonel. There's no way he went in or out of the tunnel after you sent the signal. It was secure."

Jack grimaced. They'd check, but he was sure Lanford had melted into the night, again.

Two hours later, Jack decided that situation was finally under control. SG12 had taken the NID agents to the SGC for questioning. He'd wanted to go in, as had Carter, but the General had told them to stay put and make sure the area was completely secure. He hadn't liked Jack's report on Lanford's activity. Hammond had sent SG3 to replace SG12, and they'd gone over the place with a fine-tooth comb. Wherever Lanford was, he wasn't on the property anymore. Jack'd finally ordered SG3 to stand down. It wasn't logical, and yeah, Lanford had pulled one on him, but he didn't believe the man was dangerous, at least not to Carter.

Hammond had also made it clear that he planned to conduct the interrogation of the NID agents personally. Three were in the infirmary. The fourth was in surgery, his status unclear. Dixon and Daniel had a lead on the mole and were closing in. He wasn't needed at the SGC, which left Jack feeling both relieved and annoyed. He'd have liked to play the game out to the end himself. He grimaced. Carter probably felt the same way. She'd abandoned him to securing the cellar door himself a half hour ago, after SG3 had left.

He stretched his back, finished replacing the bolt on the cellar door, and went to locate Carter.

She was on the couch in the living room, her head against the back, eyes closed, a glass of whiskey in her hand, and Schroedinger comfortably snoozing in her lap as if nothing of importance had happened.

Jack grinned. He couldn't help it. And then he sobered up. He'd like nothing better than to grab a whiskey for himself and settle down next to them. And that was the true way to insanity. He'd better get out now, while he could.

"Carter."

She opened one eye and smiled at him. He caught his breath. "Done?"

He swallowed. "Yeah. You're secure."

"Thanks."

He put his hands in his pockets, still staring at her. "I better get going. You need some sleep."

She closed her eyes and leaned back again. He wasn't sure that she'd even heard him. She must be exhausted. He turned to go.

"Jack."

He caught his breath, waiting.

"Stay." He turned to look at her, uncertain of what to do, but in the end, she made the decision for him.

"Please." It wasn't a request. Her voice was husky, low and strained. He'd never heard that tone before.

He thought about his promise to Lanford to keep her safe. No one in the SGC would question his staying the rest of the evening to make sure all was secure. And the truth was, he wanted nothing more than to do so.

He sighed and went to grab a whiskey. He could tell by her grin, even though her eyes were still closed, that she knew the exact moment when he'd given in.

He sat down on the sofa next to her and she put her head on his shoulder. "The cat stays with you."

She smiled into his shirt. "Works for me."

He closed his eyes and leaned back against the couch, resting. This was getting to be a habit; one that he really needed to break. And he would. Someday. Later. A lot later.

He settled back and let sleep take him.

TBC...


	26. Chapter 26

26.( Sam )

Sam woke to the front door opening, and sat up rubbing the crick that settled into her left shoulder. Only T, the Colonel and Daniel had a key to the place and seeing as the Colonel was still sleeping on the couch next to her, with the cat in his lap, it had to be—yep, Daniel.

"Jack, Sam." Daniel barreled into the room, nodded at them briefly and then crashed down on the Mies chair, spreading topos over the coffee table. Sam noted with some relief that he didn't seem phased by the situation.

The Colonel, however, was another story. He opened his eyes, scowled at Daniel, and started in. "Morning to you, too, Daniel. Lovely day – seeing as it's 5:30 on a ---" he paused and looked out the window, "cold but clear autumn morning on the Front Range. There's a strong front headed our way, snow expected, with temperatures predicted to drop ---."

Daniel looked up, annoyed. "Better not try for a day job as a weatherperson. You'd never make it."

"My point is that the sun isn't even up. What are you doing here?"

Daniel cocked his head. "What are you?"

The Colonel grimaced. "Helping Carter out."

"You don't have a market on that, you know."

The Colonel was silent, and then shrugged, acknowledging Daniel's comment. "Point taken." He shifted his position on the couch, and began examining the topos.

Sam decided to break in before blood was spilt. It was too early for their bickering. "Hey, Daniel. Want some coffee?"

"Thanks."

When she returned, the Colonel and Daniel had worked out a truce of sorts.

The Colonel looked up from the topos as she sat down next to him. "So, looks like Daniel's scheduled a field trip for today, although I'm not sure who he thinks can sign the permission slip."

"Jeez, Jack. You're the one who asked me to research Hayes. I did that. Do you want to know what I've found or not?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Besides, Hammond asked me to update you on what's been happening at the SGC so I decided to come over and bring back your truck at the same time."

The Colonel glared. "You drove my truck?"

"Yeah. We'll need it if we're heading up to the mountains today."

"I didn't say you could drive the truck."

"Oh for… yes, I drove your truck. Beyond the broken tail-light, it's fine."

"Funny, Daniel."

Daniel sighed. "Look, do you want to know what's happening or not?"

Sam broke in. "Of course we do, Daniel."

Daniel glanced at her and then subsided. "All right, then. Hammond and Dixon interviewed the three agents that were conscious in the infirmary. You really did a number on the fourth, Jack. He's in pretty bad shape."

The Colonel shrugged. "He's alive."

Daniel swallowed. "Yeah. There's that. Anyway, they got them to give up the name of the CO who they thought ordered the operation, but it was a dead end. No such agent. It was a cover story. But Dixon and SG5 have secured their headquarters and confiscated all the equipment. The labs are trying to id anything on the hard drives that might help right now."

The Colonel sat up. "I need to get in there."

"Jack, it's fine."

"It's not fine, Daniel."

"It is. Look, Hammond said to call him if you don't believe me. He's put you both on some down time."

When the Colonel looked ready to argue, Daniel broke in again. "Jack, T, Dixon, Fredrickson, Hammond, jeez… the entire SGC is on this. They want to do this. It's personal. If there's anything to be found, they'll track it. Let them do their jobs. If you go barging in there like a bull in a china shop, it's going to look… strange."

The Colonel rubbed his eyes, glanced up at Daniel, and then subsided. "Yeah. All right. I get it."

Daniel continued, clearly relieved. "Good. And more to the point, the rest of the good news is that we got the mole."

"Why didn't you say so?"

"I just did."

"Daniel…" the Colonel sighed, "just get to the point."

"As you know, the County Library logs listed a Neal Dorland as the guy who was checking out Hayes. That was a dead end, but Christine remembered what he looked like after she saw the date and time he was there. King did some artist's sketches, and we ran them against the SGC database. One was a match to an NID agent – a guy named Craig Ryan. Only problem was, Ryan has no connection to the SGC whatsoever."

"And?"

Ryan doesn't, but he was stationed at Patterson for a while. Hung around with a Captain by the name of Stuart Westerly."

Sam broke in. "He was just assigned to Lee in R & D."

"You got it. Siler was able to trace Westerly's cell when he contacted Ryan to let them know SG1 was off planet last night. SG3 picked them both up late last night."

The Colonel cocked his head. "Nice work, Daniel."

Daniel grinned. "I aim to please."

Sam continued. "So, it sounds like we've got them."

The Colonel looked at her, his voice serious. "We've made a start. It's not over yet."

Daniel broke in cheerfully. "Not by a long shot."

When the Colonel looked back at him, clearly exasperated, Daniel clarified. "I mean, the NID is taken care of for now. But there's also the story of Henry Hayes. I think I have something. That's why I came over and brought the truck back."

The Colonel sighed. "Ok, tell me again why you want to take a field trip up to Cripple Bank today."

Daniel grimaced. "Actually, I don't. The trail up to Rutherford's mine starts at Cripple Bank and we need to get to the mine. It's the only lead I have on what happened to Sarah Hayes. And believe it or not, Jack, your weather prediction is accurate. They're expecting snow in the high country, so if we don't do this today, it will probably have to wait until spring."

Daniel looked up at them, suddenly taking in their appearance. "Uhh.. on the other hand, you guys look like hell."

"Thanks, Daniel." Sam stared at the Colonel, realizing they'd both made the same comment at the same time.

Daniel shrugged. "I just meant that I know you had a lot going on last night, taking down the NID, and didn't get much sleep." He sighed regretfully. "I suppose the story of Sarah Hayes can wait. It's been a mystery for a hundred years; another five months won't matter."

The Colonel interrupted. "No. We should go today."

Daniel stared at him curiously. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do you think we need to go today? I understand why **I** want to go. I've been researching the story for two weeks now. Why you? It doesn't have anything to do with the NID. It's, as you said last week, 'history'."

The Colonel grimaced. "I promised someone I'd find out what happened to her."

Daniel eyed him suspiciously, like a man gingerly examining a colleague for signs of insanity. "You haven't been talking to Sam's ghost, have you? Because I think that's getting a little—"

The Colonel broke in, exasperated. "Of course not."

" --- obsessive." Daniel finished the sentence, unrepentant.

The Colonel scowled. "Just leave it alone, Daniel."

Daniel shrugged. "Okaay. Whatever you say, Jack. But if we want to investigate this, the sooner we get out of here the better. Hopefully, we can get up there, find some answers and get back down again before the front comes in." Daniel looked at her. "Sam, Fredrickson and Teal'c put a moratorium on rehabbing the house today. Hammond needs most of the crew. Teal'c told me to let you know that work will start up again tomorrow."

The Colonel turned to her. "So that means there's no reason not to head up, unless you don't want to. Carter? You in? As Daniel said, it can wait."

She grinned. "Not a chance. Now that we've gotten rid of the drug dealers and the NID, we can finally get down to the real story of finding out about my ghost. There's no way I'm not coming along and nope, it can't wait."

The Colonel grinned, and glanced at Daniel. "Lay on, MacDuff."

At the Colonel's comment, Daniel stopped collecting the topos and stared. "Stop it. That is ...so… wrong."

"What?" She glanced at the Colonel, who'd echoed the same question right after she said it.

"That's the second time this week he's correctly identified a quote from Shakespeare, both from ghost stories. This one's MacBeth, Act ---"

The Colonel interrupted. "Five, scene eight, Daniel."

Daniel stared at her. "See? That's just… scary." He looked at her with a serious expression. "Make him stop."

Sam smiled. "Let it go, Daniel. He's clearly just channeling Hayes. He'll get over it once we help the ghost. "

"Thank god for that."

She saw the Colonel grin as he headed off towards her shower.

TBC...

A/N. After this, we're off to the mountains.. which is really my favorite place to be. I hope you enjoy it too. The next scenes are why I began writing this tale to begin with. Take care. and thanks. Sam938


	27. Chapter 27

27. (Sam)

A/N. Thanks for all the reviews and story alerts! So, off to the mountains. For non-US readers, or non-hiker types, for that matter, a "topo" is US slang for a topographic map that details all of the geography of an area. You can tell altitude and distance gain from them, and determine where you are ( no, GPS does not work that well, and contrary to many people's views, cell phones do not work in many areas of the mountains or the canyons in the US. ) Always have a topo...preferably waterproofed. grin. OK, enough on that. I do hope you enjoy the next set of care and thanks, again, for 938

------------

They took the Colonel's truck. Sam grinned as she watched the Colonel examine it carefully, like a mother cat whose kitten has been away from her sight. He seemed to come to some sort of resolution, because after some muttering, he gestured for Daniel and her to get in.

She stared out at the view as they wound through the canyon working their way up into the high mountains. The road followed a creek that had cut into the foothills creating the gorge thousands of years ago. The sun was just beginning to rise, the canyon still mostly in darkness, but rays of light were breaking through shadows on the west side of the creek, the aspens sparkling in their autumn gold, the firebrush spectacular in its orange and red coat. She could hear the creek gurgling, early snows adding to its volume, could smell the scent of fresh pine, the early morning frost dissipating into mist.

The gorge opened into a mountain valley, the grass lush and full; the last of the wildflowers still golden. Up ahead she could see the peaks of the high mountains, already covered in snow, gleaming in the early morning rays. They passed a large mountain lake, the banks surrounded by lodge pole and pinyon pine.

She could see the ruins of Cripple Bank along the side of a stream that fed the lake. The town had once held hundreds of residents. All that was left now were about 10, maybe 15 wooden structures, their roofs caved in, the walls tilted and decaying. An occasional stone fireplace peeked out from a few of the ruins.

The Colonel stopped the truck and turned to Daniel. "What now?"

Daniel looked up from the topo he was reading. "There should be a track off to the left in about half a mile that leads up to claim. It's three miles up from there. " He checked his GPS and shrugged. "At least, it looks like the trail I've identified should get us there."

The Colonel sighed. "Daniel, GPS might help you locate a destination up here, but it won't detail jeep trails, especially roads cut over 100 years ago."

Daniel shook his head. "I know. That's why the topo. It's from the 20's. The track was still there then."

"Terrific."

The Colonel started up the truck. They found the faint signs of a track leading up into the high mountains a half a mile away, as Daniel had predicted, heading up the rock bed of another creek. The Colonel sighed, and threw the truck into four-wheel drive.

"This had better be good. I just had the transmission overhauled."

Daniel shrugged. "Worse comes to worse, we can always walk out."

The Colonel glanced at him incredulously. "Sure we can. We're fifty miles away from any kind of civilization, with a storm headed our way. Just peachy."

He quit talking as the track continued up, concentrating on maneuvering the truck through the boulders, rocks and indentations that made up the track. It hugged a ridge; to the left, the land slopped swiftly down to the riverbank, hundreds of feet below. Clouds were forming above the peaks ahead, slowly building into the predicted storm. The sky had turned overcast, dimming the early morning sun.

Sam broke in, wanting to distract herself from the dangerous slope of the ridge. "Why are we here, Daniel? Where are we going and what does this have to do with Hayes?"

"I may be wrong and this is a long shot…"

"Oh, terrific." The Colonel's annoyed voice interrupted.

"—but I think this is where Hayes' story began." He paused. "Watch the road, Jack."

The Colonel scowled and stopped the truck, backing it up slightly.

"What road?"

He stared at the three-foot boulder blocking the way. He gestured at the boulder. "We're going to have to move that. There's no way to turn around here and I am not backing the truck down the mountain."

Daniel grimaced and then shrugged, looking back down from where they had come. "You couldn't anyway. Too steep. Too narrow. Too dangerous."

"Yeah, something like that." The Colonel was already out of the truck, ignoring Daniel. Sam heard him mumble something about Teal'c, but it was hard to be sure.

Twenty minutes later, they'd moved the boulder and made a path for the truck. As they got back in the vehicle, the Colonel studied what he could see of the rest the track, winding its way up into the high country.

"How much further?"

"Cripple Bank was at 10200 feet; just past tree line. I'm betting the claim is at around 13000. So, it should be about 3000 feet up and, as I said, about," he paused and stared at the topo, "three miles into the mountains. We're nearly at the claim by my calculations; it's another mile or so but we've gained most of the altitude. The terrain should flatten out just around that bend."

"Sure."

Even Daniel shut up as the Colonel navigated the rest of what was left of the track.

Finally, the track opened up into a high alpine valley. Sam closed her eyes and blinked once, and then blinked again.

The valley, no, meadow was the right word, was spectacularly beautiful. There were high peaks on all sides, 14ers, with rubble falling in crevasses between them. Avalanche country. The rock face surrounding the meadow was composed of hard, rugged, grey granite, the rocks harsh and unforgiving.

But in the meadow in between the peaks, a stream still burbled, determined on its path, feeding the last of the wildflowers that clung to life. Sam looked up and around, taking in the topography. The stream was clearly fed from an alpine lake they couldn't see on a table 500 foot up, at the base of the main peak. It was stark landscape, foreboding, and difficult. She looked up at the sky, and saw the clouds rushing in, unable to calculate their speed and growth. Or perhaps it wasn't she who was indecisive. The weather was varying wildly; one moment black with probable storms, the next, a clear blue horizon appeared. But that was Colorado. She knew it was going to snow somewhere, and soon. She just hoped they could get back to the Springs before it did.

She turned back to look at the land, searching for some sign of humanity, for a claim or at least the site of a cabin. The meadow was golden brown and reds, the fall setting in with a vengeance, the vegetation almost gone. Sam noted the pockets of glaciated snow in hollows; soon the entire landscape would be covered. The trees were small, sparse along the edges of the valley, alpine tundra visible on the slopes above, the fragile plant life hanging on to the rocks and boulders that made up the walls of the valley. Huge boulders, some the size of houses, littered the valley floor, making the landscape a crazy patchwork of bush and boulder.

"Glacier country. It's going to be hard to find anything up here." Sam looked up towards the pass over the mountains. "It looks like the stream originates up there, about five hundred feet below the top of that peak. There's probably a lake – right about there." She pointed towards the snowcap of the mountain.

The Colonel stopped the truck. "We're going to have to hike from here. The truck would never make it through that terrain."

They got out of the truck and headed into the valley.

She scoped out the landscape, thinking. "If there was a homestead or a cabin up here, they'd most likely have placed close to the water source and out of the wind, in an indentation."

The Colonel scanned the area, and headed towards the stream bed. She and Daniel followed.

Fifteen minutes into the hike, she saw it; an old, run down cabin, lying in a gully by the stream, its roof long destroyed by the elements. She started to gesture towards it, but the Colonel had clearly seen it as well, and motioned them towards the structure.

She concentrated on her footing, heading carefully toward the cabin, the ground rough and uneven, still slippery and wet from the morning mists. She navigated slowly through the dying flowers and vegetation that made up the valley floor.

Finally, she reached the structure. Sam stared at the building, dismayed at the destruction that time and the elements had wrought. She looked around her at the site. Once, it must have been beautiful here, summers glorious with clear blue skies, golden sun, fields of wildflowers and the high mountain peaks surrounding creating a dramatic view. The cabin had once been sturdy and solid, a refuge against the storms. But now, it was a ruin, decayed and fallen, its footprint pathetically small in comparison to the immensity of the mountains surrounding. The sky had turned grey again, the winds rushing the clouds quickly over the mountain tops and through the pass between them.

She shivered against the cold, and rubbed her hands together, determinedly ignoring the disquiet that had settled in her mind. She followed the Colonel to the entrance of the structure, staring in.

There was little left. A cast iron stove still stood at one end of the structure, a stone fireplace at the other. She marveled at the amount of work it must have taken to bring one up the mountain and move the stones to build the other. Both were in ruins now. The cabin itself was no more than 12 x 15 feet. She could see that it had been portioned at one time into two small rooms, now both rubble.

She turned away from the sight and went to look for Daniel. He wasn't far away. Scrunched down on his haunches, he was staring at a gravestone, no more than twenty foot away from the cabin site.

She swallowed. "Is it Sarah Hayes?"

Daniel looked up at her, clearly distracted from his thoughts. "No. Francis Rutherford. Died in 1886, according to this." He ran his hand along the stone face. "I didn't expect this, but it does confirm that this was where Rutherford was working a claim." He stood up, looking around. "There has to be another gravestone, Sam. You check that direction."

"Wait. Daniel, who was Francis Rutherford?"

He paused, clearly distracted. "Rutherford's sister." He looked around impatiently. "Sam, I'll explain it all later. Just look for another stone, will you? Sarah has to be up here."

"I – ok." She started hunting for Sarah Hayes' grave.

A half hour later she heard the Colonel's voice calling them, his tone impatient and commanding.

"Daniel, Carter, that's enough. Head back to the cabin."

She met them both at the site, Daniel's expression one of clear irritation. "Jack, it's got to be here."

The Colonel's tone was glacial. "It's not. We've checked."

"We've only checked out about 300 yards of the valley around the cabin. There's—"

"Enough, Daniel. I know that the meadow is about a mile wide and two or three long. We're not checking the rest."

"But –"

"Think about it. Rutherford buried his sister twenty feet away from the cabin. If Sarah Hayes was up here, he wouldn't move the body a half mile away. She'd be next to his sister. She's not here." He looked up at the sky. "And the weather is getting worse. We need to head down."

"I just ---damn, you're right."

"I'm what?" The Colonel seemed stunned that Daniel had actually agreed with him.

"You're right, Jack. Rutherford buried his sister next to the cabin, keeping a watch over her grave, keeping her close. But if Sarah Hayes died up here as well, he'd have to bury her where no one could find her, where no one except he would know where she was. If his sister's grave is any indication, he wasn't the type of man to leave a burial unmarked or abandoned. He must have buried Sarah in the mine, his mine, where he could keep an eye on the burial site." Daniel paused, thinking. "We have to locate the mine."

"OK, that's it. We're not looking for anything until you explain."

"Jack –"

"No. Who the hell is Rutherford, what does Francis Rutherford have to do with this, what's Rutherford's connection to Henry and Sarah Hayes, and why do you think Sarah Hayes is up here?"

Daniel grimaced. "I told you about Rutherford. He and Hayes killed each other in Hayes' speakeasy. But I also think Rutherford was Hayes' silent partner; the one who found the 'Sarah', taught Hayes what he needed to know about mining, and made him rich. Francis Rutherford was Rutherford's sister. She died young. I don't know her connection to the story at all, or even if there is one, although there must be, because one of the stones on Sam's property has her name, and her grave's here. I'm not sure what –"

"Daniel."

"Sorry. There's enough evidence in some of the diaries of the time to suggest that Sarah Hayes ran away with another man. I think it was Rutherford. And I think she died up here. She literally disappeared from the face of the earth once she left Colorado Springs. It's the only thing that makes sense." He paused annoyed. "Now, can we look for the mine?"

"Daniel ---"

"Do you want to find Sarah Hayes or not?"

The Colonel sighed. "Yes. I do."

"Okay, then."

The Colonel grimaced and looked at her. "Carter, any ideas on where the mine might be located?"

She stared back at him, incredulous at the request. "You can't be serious, sir. I'm not a geologist, and even if I were, I –"

"Carter, please. Just think about it."

She stared out at the mountain terrain, drudging up any piece of information she could remember about gold and silver veins, mining, and mountains, scoping the land. It had to be high up, not in the valley, but in the sides of the mountains. And it had to be visible. A silver mine at this altitude would be large enough that the entrance couldn't be hidden; there were no trees to block the view. And it had to be close. Rutherford wouldn't have built the cabin miles away from the claim. She scanned the sides of the mountains, looking for the scar. Finally, she saw it. "There."

The Colonel stared at her, surprised. "You sure?"

She grimaced. "No. But it's the only possibility I can think of."

He scanned the site, squinting his eyes to scope it carefully. "Carter, that's three hundred foot up through a boulder field."

She shrugged her shoulders. He could take it or leave it. It was the best she could do.

He sighed. "All right, let's move out."

TBC...


	28. Chapter 28

28. ( Sam )

A/N. Okay, off to the mine. Thanks for reading! sam938

The climb was steep but possible. Sam navigated the boulder field carefully, looking for purchase, using her hands when necessary for balance along the rock face wall. She thought she heard the Colonel mumble something about "damned animal trails," but he was clearly just grumbling. No animal would deliberately make its way on its own through the rock pile. There'd be no point. The trail was old, very old, the rock crumbling, the slope dangerous, but it was clearly man-made. Someone had spent days, maybe months building a retaining wall of sorts on the worst of the slope; a wall that was now decaying, broken from decades of neglect.

Just below the mouth of the tunnel, she stopped, catching her breath. The tunnel entrance was a round, gaping hole in the rock, only six foot high and about five foot across. There was blisteringly black darkness inside.

She turned away, looking at the landscape behind her, thinking. She was standing on a three-foot wide rock platform of sorts just beneath the entrance to the mine. The platform had been leveled by someone a long time ago. Below her was a 300-foot boulder field, denuded of life. Nothing grew there. Nothing could. Nothing probably ever had.

If Rutherford had mined the place, how had he brought down the rock and separated the metals from the slag? There was no sluice, no evidence of any sort of distribution method; no wood debris that might have indicated that there was once a preparation site or slide to convey the mined rock down the mountain. If someone had mined it, they must have physically carried the rock out, one pack at a time, or maybe they'd been able to use mules. Looking at the trail they'd taken to get up here, she doubted that the last was the case.

She turned back to the tunnel's mouth and climbed the last piece to the entrance. Once there, she watched the Colonel take a flashlight out of his pack just inside the entrance, bending his large frame to gain access. She could tell he was checking the ceiling and wall beams for signs of weakness before going further.

At the top, she pulled out her own flashlight and shone it into the entrance. The tunnel opened up inside, about seven foot high and ten foot across. She moved into the mine's mouth, the Colonel about ten feet in front of her now, and retraced his earlier movements, checking for herself that the beams were secure. They were. In fact, they were in surprisingly good condition. But that was all the evidence there was that any humans had been there. Just like the outside of the mine, there was nothing else to indicate it had ever been used. No old tools, slag, tailings or rock lay haphazardly around. The site was pristine, as if someone had deliberately removed all the signs of human presence they could. The result was cold and calculated, almost like a barrier warning anyone who might enter to go no further.

She shivered from the cold and pulled her gortex around her. Whatever else was going on, it was clear that someone had once gone to a lot of trouble to clean up the site. She looked at the Colonel, who had seen her enter. He gestured to her to examine the side of the tunnel across from him, and returned back to examining his side of the structure.

She stared at the interior. "Where's Daniel?"

The Colonel turned at her comment, and glanced into the tunnel. "Right… ah, hell. He was right there, twenty seconds ago."

They stared into the darkness ahead. Sam caught a glimmer of Daniel's flashlight, almost invisible, as he headed down the tunnel.

The Colonel reacted. "Damn it, Daniel, wait until Carter and I have checked the –"

Nothing. Either Daniel hadn't heard him or he wasn't answering.

"Damn it, Jackson ---." The Colonel tried again, but there was still no response.

He glanced at her, his tone angry and concerned. "Carter, stay here. Check the supports. I'm going after him. At least one of us should avoid a cave-in."

He started to head down the tunnel, and then stopped, startled. Daniel's disembodied voice, echoing through the tunnel, came drifting down toward them.

"I found her."

"You what?" The Colonel's tone was incredulous.

Daniel came back up the tunnel, his flashlight breaking the blackness of the void behind him. "I found her. I found the body of Sarah Hayes."

"That's just … peachy. Now stay put while Carter and I check out the supports."

"She about 100 foot in, on a ledge. It's fine. There's a ---"

The Colonel ignored him, still checking the tunnel's safety.

"Jack ---"

The Colonel turned, his voice hard. "No. You are not going back in there until we're sure it's safe."

"But –"

"I am not digging you out of a cave-in in a mine in nearly 14000 foot up in the mountains with a storm headed our way. Just --- stay --- put. And don't move."

"The storm is why—"

"Ah." The Colonel raised his hand. When Daniel stopped talking, he continued. "We do this my way, or we don't do it at all."

With that, Daniel backed down. He grimaced. "All right, I got it." He sighed. "You're right, of course. But she is down there. I'm sure of it."

The Colonel grimaced. "If she is, she's been there nearly a hundred years, Daniel. Twenty more minutes won't matter."

She broke in before they started arguing again. "Daniel, help me check this side of the tunnel." He moved over to her and then began the tedious but necessary process of examining the supports for breaks.

Slowly, they headed into the blackness, still checking the beams. There was a small cave-in on the eastern side of the tunnel, about 50 foot from the mouth. They maneuvered around it slowly, backing away carefully as a rock pile slid from its insecure location to the floor, the noise echoing over and over again throughout the mine.

And then she saw it. Her flashlight revealed something white, calcified, hanging from the side of the tunnel.

She pulled in a breath, and stepped back. Then she raised the flashlight and swallowed, scanning the area again.

She could see all of it now. There was a man-made ledge cut into the side of the mine, three foot up from the floor, carefully covered in stones. The white… were bones. Calcified bones. A hand and arm extended out from the stones.

"Oh, hell."

The Colonel looked back at her from his position by the body. "You ok, Carter?"

It was meant to be a grave. But time clearly had dislodged the arm. She looked away, below the burial. Underneath the ledge was an old trunk; its thick straps locking down the contents.

"Carter?" The Colonel sounded worried.

She shook her head, trying to clear it. "I – yeah. I 'm fine. I just really didn't think we'd find the body. I – anyway."

The Colonel cleared his throat. "Yeah. Not exactly what I expected either."

Daniel was already rummaging through the trunk. He turned over the material inside it carefully. "This stuff is in amazingly good shape. It must have been protected by the mine, and the dry Colorado climate." He stopped talking but kept rummaging.

Sam suddenly felt like a grave robber, invading the dead's privacy. "What are you looking for, Daniel?"

Her tone must have been harsh, because Daniel stopped and looked up at her, surprised.

"Carter?"

She grimaced. "Sorry. I just think we ought to leave her in peace."

"I'm looking for proof that it is her, Sam," he paused, and pulled out a small journal, bound in leather, "and I think I found it."

The Colonel looked at Daniel and then back at her, clearly concerned. "All right, let's move. The weather isn't going to hold much longer and we've found as much as we're going to today."

Surprisingly, Daniel didn't argue with him. She was relieved, because deep down she knew that if Daniel had said anything, she would have snapped his head off before the Colonel had a chance. She blinked, trying to clear her vision. It didn't make sense. She'd seen far worse than a 100-year-old half -buried corpse. There was just something about this situation--- the desolate, lonely location so long untouched and abandoned --- that unnerved her.

"Carter, let's go." She looked up and saw that the Colonel was waiting for her. She followed him silently out of the tunnel, navigating the cave-in and the darkness.

Finally, the mouth of the tunnel came into sight.

"Damn."

The storm had come in while they were searching the tunnel. The sky was pure black to the west. The wind had picked up, rolling grey clouds past them ferociously. She could see lightning strikes crashing into the peaks on the far side of the valley, the thunder echoing after. She lowered herself down the boulder field, the rocks slippery, slick with rain. She tripped and then caught herself, the Colonel's hand steadying her arm for a moment before he let go.

Hail and sleet covered the valley, stinging her hands and arms as she ran. She pulled her gloves and wool hat out of her backpack. The storm now blocked their sight of the mountains and the vistas around them. She could barely see ten feet in front of her. She stumbled through the rough terrain, soaking wet even through her gortex.

The Colonel signaled toward the cabin. Even without a roof, it would provide some cover from the wind and the hail. Once there, he pulled Daniel and her into a corner between the stove and the wall of the cabin. She glanced up, noting that one of the roof beams was still attached to the wall, providing an overhead shelter of sorts. She sat down on the dirt floor and settled her back against the stove, her feet up against the wall, waiting.

The Colonel pulled off his hat, and rubbed his hands through his hair, shaking out the hail and water. "I've been in storms like this before. This is just the appetizer, not the main course. We'll hole up here until the worst of this first front passes and then head down to the truck. With any luck, we can make it down to Cripple Bank before the next front comes through, although that… trail …of your is going to be oh so much fun, Daniel." He paused, thinking. "Worst case, I have emergency gear in the truck. We can biovac there and wait the entire storm out."

Daniel looked up at the skies. "Not pretty."

"Yeah," the Colonel followed his gaze, "but not deadly yet. It'll break in about a half an hour. We move out then." He pulled out a couple of candy bars from his jacket and threw one to her and to Daniel. "Might as well get comfortable."

Sam grimaced and opened the chocolate, thinking. "God, I don't understand it. She must have known when she ran away and came up here that it was a death sentence. I mean -- -look at this. It's still early October. By December there must be five foot of snow up here, minimum. Even with the cabin, they couldn't have survived. She must have known."

The Colonel took a bite of his candy, thinking. "Not necessarily, Carter. Most prospectors left the mountains in winter, moving down to the towns. Maybe that's what she planned to do as well."

"Only she never made it."

"Yeah, there's that." The Colonel finished his candy bar, and looked up at the storm again. "It's breaking. If we don't want to end up here ourselves, we better move now."

They reached the Colonel's truck in another half-hour. He gestured them into it quickly and started the engine, intent on heading down the mountain. Sam looked at what was left of the trail and then looked up at the sky again. The weather was definitely over its break and the clouds were screaming by with even more ferocity than before; the second front was headed towards them. She looked down the mountain. The tire tracks they'd made coming up were barely visible, a blurry imprint underneath a layer of hail and sleet.

She and Daniel stayed completely silent while the Colonel navigated the trail. Sam wasn't sure she could have spoken if she had to. She couldn't stop staring at the 1000 foot drop on the right side of the truck as they headed down the rocky ledge that made up the track. His hands steady, the Colonel's entire concentration was focused on steering quickly as the truck's wheels slipped on the mud and water, the truck fishtailing down through the sleet. She held her breath when the wheels caught in the mud, and watched silently as he backed the truck up to the very edge of the precipice and then gunned the motor, pulling the wheels out of the mud and onto the bare, slick rock in front of them.

Finally, the Colonel stopped the truck, and turned it off. The abandoned town of Cripple Bank, still, desolate and silent, lay in front of them. They were down off the worst of the mountain, 3000 feet below the valley where they'd left Sarah. She felt adrenaline course through her body, after the fact, now that they had safely traversed the worst.

The Colonel commented, calmly, the satire in his voice unmistakable, "Yep. Told you that was going to be fun."

No one broke the silence. Sam didn't think she was capable of saying anything.

Daniel finally commented. "I take back everything I've ever thought about your obsession with your truck. You clearly belong together. Never let anyone else drive it."

The Colonel grinned. "Why thank you, Daniel. I'm glad you see my point."

Daniel blinked, clearly still recovering. "I thought we were dead. Where did you learn to drive like that?"

The Colonel shrugged. "Special ops days. I've been on worse, although not many."

Daniel stared out at the vista. "I can't believe the weather down here. It's – it looks like it rained but it's nothing like the valley."

"We're 3000 foot lower, Daniel. And don't let it fool you. The second front's headed in. It'll snow here and probably in Colorado Springs later this evening. Good news is that the jeep trail from Cripple Bank down to the main road is maintained. We're through the worst of it now. But we better head back just to be sure."

With that, the Colonel started up the truck again. Sam grimaced, and didn't look back. She already understood how unforgiving and relentless the mountains could be, if they chose.

TBC...


	29. Chapter 29

29. (Jack)

A/N. Sorry for the delay. This is a short chapter, setting the stage for the next. I'm posting both tonight. I do hope you enjoy them. Somehow, I think Sam just wouldn't leave the tale alone, nor would Daniel, until they knew all about Sam's ghost. And Jack has his own reasons... Thanks again for reading. Sam938

* * *

Jack decided that the silence in the truck was more unnerving than the jeep trail down. Sure, the trip had been dicey, but Daniel and Carter as part of SG1 had been through far worse and hadn't been this quiet after. It was strange. Jack finally decided a diversion was in order. Consequently, he took the bull by the horns and actually asked Daniel about his research. It had to be a first; but Carter was unusually quiet and hadn't asked Daniel anything. He couldn't tell if she was simply tired, brooding about the NID and/or her house, or something else entirely was wrong, but whatever it was had him worried.

"So, how did you figure out Sarah Hayes ran off with Rutherford?"

Daniel blinked, and then stared at him suspiciously. "Are you all right?"

"Just dandy, Daniel."

"Because I think that's the first time you've **ever** asked me about my research. It's –"

"It's what?" Jack broke in, exasperated.

"--- weird, Jack."

Jack shut up. He'd tried. He couldn't help it if Daniel was being a pain, as usual. He glanced back at Carter through the rear view mirror and saw that she was leaning back, eyes closed, her head against the back of the seat. Good. Maybe she could get some rest.

"Oh."

Jack glanced at Daniel and saw him look back with a knowing expression in his eyes.

"Damn it, Daniel, just explain the story." Jack turned his eyes toward the road, navigating a sharp curve on the track.

Daniel shrugged. "Okay." He paused, clearly putting his thoughts in order.

"As I've said, many, many times before, Hayes died in a shoot out in his speakeasy. He killed Rutherford and a guy by the name of Pearson and was killed himself. It didn't make sense to me. Everything I'd read about Hayes indicated that it was unlike him to suddenly shoot two men without cause. By all accounts, he was a careful, calculating man obsessed with wealth. There had to be a history; some disagreement between the three of them that went back years.

But as you know, researching Hayes was a dead end. So, I started researching Rutherford. He and his sister Francis were born in the mountains around Leadville. His father was a prospector. After his father died in 1879, Rutherford left suddenly, taking Francis with him, and abandoned his father's claim. Why became clear when I turned up a warrant for Rutherford's arrest for shooting a man. He and Francis first show up in the Springs early in 1880. The problem was, as a wanted man, he couldn't file any claims, so mining here for him was illegal, not that anyone was policing that at the time. It was wild country."

He paused, thinking. "Still, he had to stay low and keep quiet. That's where Hayes came in. It not a long stretch to guess that Rutherford met Hayes in the mountains and became his silent partner. Rutherford knew the mountains and mining; Hayes had something to prove. I think Rutherford probably found the 'Sarah' and convinced Hayes to get involved. We do know that Hayes filed the claim for the land around the 'Sarah' in 1883 and came back to Colorado City a wealthy man in 85, but there's no real evidence of a connection between Hayes and Rutherford during those years. I think there was.

"And I think once word was out about the success of the 'Sarah', Rutherford needed another place to hide. He filed a death certificate for Francis in 1886 and then he disappears for twelve years until 1898, when he shows up back in Colorado City in some diaries of the time. There's also mention of a young boy, somewhere between ten and thirteen or so, being seen with him. The diaries refer to him as Rutherford's younger brother."

Jack interrupted. "I thought you said Rutherford's father died when he left Leadville in 1880."

"I did."

"Okayy.."

"Yeah. Interesting, isn't it? Whoever the boy was, it wasn't Hayes younger brother."

Jack grimaced. "This is all very interesting, Daniel," hoping the irony in his voice was unmistakable, "but, I ask again, what does this have to do with Sarah Hayes?"

Daniel grimaced. "I'm getting to it. The diary of a woman who knew Sarah Hayes well, the one who claimed she'd run off with another man, mentioned seeing her with a friend of Hayes and a young boy days before she disappeared. That sounded suspiciously like it might be Rutherford." He paused, thinking. "The man disappears for years, shows up in town for a few months and then disappears again at the same time Sarah ran away. It couldn't be coincidence. There had to be a connection.

"But they couldn't have disappeared into thin air. Rutherford had to be working another claim, most likely with yet another silent partner. And if Rutherford took Sarah with him back to the new claim, it would explain why she just… disappeared. That's pretty rugged country up there. I doubt anyone except Rutherford and his partner traveled through it in the 90s.

"So I was pretty sure Rutherford, Sarah and the boy were somewhere up in the mountains prospecting. But I still didn't know where they were. The only way to locate Rutherford and Sarah was to identify his second silent partner and where he'd filed mining claims. Pearson was the most likely candidate, considering that he was the other man Hayes killed in the speakeasy. There was another connection as well. Pearson originally came from Leadville. In 1885, Pearson filed a claim for ownership of the valley we just came down from, but he's seen in Colorado City all year round throughout the 80s and 90s. No one really thought he mined it. By all accounts, Pearson was solvent, but never as wealthy as Hayes."

"Why did you think we'd find Sarah's grave up there?"

Daniel grimaced. "Jack, she was never seen again. Not ever. As you mentioned earlier, no one could survive the winter in those mountains without coming down into the valleys. But I wasn't really sure she was there until we found her today."

"And so?"

Daniel stared at him suspiciously. "Okay, that's enough. Why do you want to know this? What's going on? Because I'm sure you're not concerned about Hayes and a story that happened a hundred years ago."

Jack scowled. "Just finish it, Daniel."

"I don't **know** the rest. Rather, I do know some of it." Daniel glanced down at the diary in his lap. "Maybe this will tell us more." He started to open the diary.

"Leave it, Daniel." Sam's voice was a command. Startled, Daniel turned to look at her in the truck, and Jack glanced back through his rear view mirror.

"Carter?"

She shrugged, clearly embarrassed. "I just meant that I think it seems more appropriate to hear the end of Sarah's story in Hayes House. It's where it began, after all."

Jack shrugged. "Makes sense to me."

Sam smiled, clearly shaking off whatever had been bothering her. "Dinner's on me."

TBC...


	30. Chapter 30

30. (Sam)

A/N. I'm very curious to know your opinion on this chapter. I do hope it works. In any case, thanks very much for reading. (( I promise more s/j really I do, but you know.. uhh.. "the plot's.. (uhh.. sorry.. it's the..) play's the thing"...Shakespeare. Hamlet Act 2 Scene 2.. grin.)) Sam938 ducks. I worked hard on that ghost. Grin. I do hope you enjoy. Thanks again.

* * *

It was dark and snowing by the time they reached Colorado Springs. The Colonel pulled up in front of her house and pulled out his cell. She and Daniel looked at him, questioning.

He gestured them in towards the house. "You guys head in. I want to get a hold of Teal'c and see what's been happening. And dinner's on me this time, Carter. Pizza ok?"

She shook her head, agreeing.

"Alright if I invite T? I think he'll want to be in on the rest of the story."

"Sure."

She and Daniel headed into the house. She threw her parka onto the hook by the front door, and grabbed Daniel's, placing it on a hook as well. The house was unusually silent, the darkness unsettling. She had gotten used to the now standard evening banter of the SGC warming up the place. And used to the Colonel being there when she came home, quietly directing everything.

She shrugged off the thought and headed into the living room, turning on the side lamps on the tables by the couch, then sat down on the raised ledge in front of the fireplace and began to build a fire to take away the evening chill. She hadn't noticed until now, but her clothes were still damp from the trip up to the mountains and it was cold in the house.

"You need some dry clothes, Daniel? Because the Colonel has a lot of spare…" She stopped suddenly. "I didn't mean that the way it sounded."

Daniel grinned. "Actually, I hope you did. My sweater's soggy, my socks are wet through, and I would really appreciate a hot shower. And as for Jack, I figure if he's late on the scene, he can fend for himself, even if they are his clothes." He sat down next to her, helping her start the fire. "Yours won't fit and he only lives a block away. Let him deal."

"Nice, Daniel."

He shrugged and then looked at her carefully, his expression serious. "You all right?"

She turned back to the fire, watching as the logs finally caught and the flames began to rise. "Yeah. I think so. I'm glad we found her, but I'm not sure I really…"

"…want to know what's in the diary. I know, Sam. It's one of the great ironies of researching the past. You spend days, months, sometimes years trying to find the answer to questions, and in the end the results often turn out to be…not what you'd hoped."

"Why do it?"

He shrugged. "I could say it's the thrill of the chase, but it's not really that. Sometimes, if you're lucky, you learn from it, and don't make the same mistakes. Let the past inform the present." He paused. "Either way, whatever comes of Sarah's diary, at least we'll know what happened. Someone will know her story. There's some comfort in that."

He stood up. "Okay if I grab that shower?"

She smiled, shaking off her mood. "Oh yeah, you betcha. The Colonel's clothes are in the second bedroom on the left, not that I told you that."

He smiled. "Got it."

With that, she headed off to a shower, hot water, and warmth herself.

Warm, dry, and comfortable, her mood improved considerably, she headed down the stairs and found the Colonel already changed and showered and sitting in front of the fire in the living room, drinking a beer with Daniel. They were arguing, as usual. She grinned and headed in.

"… could have at least not picked my favorite shirt. There were six..." The Colonel stopped and glanced at her. "Oh, hey, Carter. The pizza should be here in ten and Reynolds is dropping T by in about five minutes. You want a drink?" He didn't wait for an answer, just got up and poured her a single-malt from the cabinet beside the fireplace.

He waited until she sat down on the couch before he handed her the glass, moving the throw they'd left on the side chair towards her. "I fed Shroedinger. He's still in the kitchen, sulking. I don't think he likes that new stuff you bought."

She shifted and grabbed the throw. " He's just used to a lot more attention during the day on the weekends from the SGC crew."

"It's the food, Carter. That stuff smells like ---"

Daniel interrupted. "Uhh… guys?"

The Colonel stopped. "What?"

"Pizza, Teal'c, Reynolds and/or all of them are on the doorstep. Uhh.. bell?"

Sam grinned. They'd managed to completely ignore the doorbell. She grinned yet again as she watched the Colonel head toward the front door. She covered her feet with the throw as she settled into the couch, taking a sip of the whiskey, watching the fire burn slowly.

An hour later, stuffed with what Daniel had declared to be "completely inedible" pizza, a denigration that amused her as the Colonel had ordered her favorite, Sam leaned back and gazed around the room. The Colonel was next to her on the sofa, Shroedinger asleep between them. Daniel and Teal'c had confiscated the Mies chairs. The fire was crackling in the fireplace, the logs now fully lit and burning brightly. Teal'c had updated them on the situation with the NID; apparently the SGC had identified another six agents who had been connected to the operation. In total, twelve had been taken into military custody. It may not be all of them, but their capture would significantly hinder covert NID activity for a long time to come. Sam felt some satisfaction in that.

Daniel had updated Teal'c on their activities in the mountains, and had just finished the story.

"Anyone want some coffee?"

"Carter…"

"Sam…"

"Captain Carter, my beverage is sufficient. Daniel Jackson and O'Neill have just opened new beers. You have yet to finish your whiskey. Coffee is unneeded."

"Ah.. yeah. Sorry."

"Daniel Jackson has stated that he believes the answer to Sarah Hayes' fate is likely outlined in her diary. Perhaps you would prefer for this to remain unknown."

She sighed. "No. That's not it. It's just that …"

"Sam."

She glanced at Daniel. "OK. You're right, Teal'c, we should look at it. Maybe we can learn something from it, and if not, at least someone knows what happened to her, and yes, you're right, Daniel, there is some comfort in that."

Daniel handed her the diary. "Do you want to do the honors or should I read it?"

She shook her head. "I'll do it." With that, she took a sip of her whiskey, put her feet up on the coffee table and opened the diary.

"_October 10, 1899_

_Diary of Sarah Marie Hayes_

'_I do not know why I have chosen to write this. I am certain it will not be read. James and John will not invade my privacy and James knows that I wish him to bury it with me when I die. Even so, I feel the need to account for my life. Perhaps I wish to make peace with my god, although I have never been a religious woman. But death can change many things._

_James will not acknowledge the possibility, but I am certain that I am dying. He demands that I return to Henry, my family and to Colorado City to consult a doctor. I will not do so. This untenable disagreement is creating distress in the cabin and evenings are difficult after James and John return from the claim. It is hard for them, as they work until dark at the mine, and as I am now unable to fulfill my responsibilities in the cabin and at the homestead, and can no longer perform even simple household chores, they must do all upon their return. But neither complains. I still insist that John read and learn his lessons in the evening, but I will not be able to teach him much longer. I know this; as does he; and so we are very serious in our endeavors. I will not return to Colorado City, no matter what James desires. I do not wish to spend the time I have left attempting to reconcile impossible difficulties. So I will remain here with James and John in the mountains. _

_I am very grateful for the life we have built. The last year has been the most calm and content of my life. But now, it is over. The snow is coming. Even now, it fills the pockets in the valley, and will soon cover all. The vegetation is golden; but turning to brown. With another storm, all will be asleep until next spring. The bear are finishing their autumn feast and have found their dens. The elk and deer have moved down the mountain in anticipation of the coming frosts._

_Only John, James and I have not yet removed to our winter homes. James and John will need to leave this place soon and head lower down the mountain if they are to survive until the spring. They stay for me, to try to convince me to go with them. But I will not._

_I value the year I have been given with them. It was enough. I hope it will sustain them as well. But I honestly do not know. I deeply regret any hurt I may have inflicted upon them._

_My story began when I was fifteen, sixteen years ago now. It seems like both a moment ago and yet a lifetime. Time passes in an unaccountable manner, fleeting and then far too slowly. Patience and persistence are the keys. I wish I had understood this when I was fifteen. Perhaps many events would have unfolded differently. It is too late to wonder now._

_I was introduced to Henry Hayes at Clare Anderson's coming out party in Colorado City. I was fifteen years of age. As an educated upper class young man from the East, we all understood that he was destined for greatness. I had never met anyone like him before. I was honored that he noticed me; more than honored. I was ecstatic, foolish, vain; a young girl with her head in the clouds who would listen to no one except her lover. On the evening we met, the spring flowers were at their height and the Colorado skies were deep and blue, the stars glittering. I was certain that my meeting Henry had been destined, and that the connection was one that was intended to last. So it did last; at least for that summer._

_That fall, Henry was disinherited by his father because he refused to return to the east, and insisted on remaining in Colorado. His father would not countenance that. My father consequently forbade our connection. I was inconsolable when Henry left to explore in the mountains. Then, like the fairy tale it was, Henry returned to Colorado City with immense wealth and a legal claim. I married him that year in the largest ceremony Colorado City had ever seen, with his relatives from the East and all of Colorado City in attendance. I was in love and I was happy. In truth, I think we both were. I was immediately with child, and Henry began to build Hayes House. _

_Then, the problems began. My daughter, Rachel, died three months after her birth. It is terrible to loose a child. I was distraught, grief-stricken, but Henry assured me that we were both young, and more would come. _

_At his and my father's urging, I ignored my grief and took my place along side them as one of the leaders of Colorado City society. I longed for a child, as did Henry; but I soon came to understand that while I wanted a child, he longed for a dynasty. It was then that I recognized his preoccupation with power and prestige, and his need to be far better than his father and his brothers before him._

_I did not want to fail him. I did not want to fail either of us. I became desperate for a child, but we were not blessed. Then, ten years after Rachel's death, I was with child again. It was not to be. My son was stillborn. _

_The doctor told us there would be no more. _

_Henry's obsession with the mine bloomed. He spent all of his time establishing the town of Cripple Bank as his legacy._

_I had failed him. I knew this although he never blamed me. I blamed myself._

_I refused invitations, and remained alone in the House while Henry lived in the mountains. I refused conversation with my family and friends. I remained in mourning. Many viewed this as appropriate. Perhaps it was. Perhaps it was not._

_One day, on the first day I decided to venture out of the house and visit the market, I saw John._

_It was the first time I truly believed I was insane. John and James were in the marketplace, purchasing provisions for the week, dusty, dirty, ragged, obviously having come down from prospecting in the mountains. John was exactly as my son would have been as a very young man. I had imagined his face many times. I knew him immediately. _

_I hurried home and locked myself in the house. It was not possible. But yet, it was. Eventually, I became sure. It was my son. Alive. He had to be._

_A week later, I arrived at the market at precisely the same time as the last. John and James were there. I dropped my basket in front of James, forcing an introduction, and asked them to help me to return home. Although a mountain man by upbringing, James is a true gentleman and I am afraid I gave him little choice._

_By the end of the encounter, I was certain that John was Henry's son. The similarities are even now obvious and apparent in the boy's smile, his motions, and in the way his eyes light up with interest in all around him. The child is a Hayes. And therefore, he is my son. _

_I was shameless in my pursuit of James in order to become acquainted with John. I knew he and John were down from the mountains for a very brief time from their claim, organizing provisions. When they returned to the claim, I intended to return with them. I posed this idea to James, but he refused. I admit I finally begged him to take me with them. Finally, he agreed._

_I have been with John and James since. It has been the most rewarding period of my life. I know Henry and my father have tried to find me; but James and John have kept my secret, at my request. So far, no one knows where I am. I pray they never discover it. I would not want John and James to have that burden as well. Nor Henry._

_James finally admitted the truth. John is the child of James' sister Francis and of Henry. Henry does not know he has a son._

_Henry met James and Francis shortly after he left to explore the mountains. James had located what he believed was a strong vein, but could not file a claim as he was wanted for some irregularities in Leadville. So, Henry filed the claim alone, with James as a silent partner. They worked the claim together, along with Francis. Perhaps James' belief in Henry was naïve. But always he has been, and continues, a man who understands mountains and the wilderness and has little time for city ways. _

_The partnership made Henry rich. They discovered the 'Sarah'; and the millions that came with that discovery officially went to Henry. James will not speak of Henry unless pressured to do so, even though I know he despises him, perhaps with just cause. But he has admitted that Henry did not cheat him financially. They split the initial money from the 'Sarah' as agreed, and James left the area to start mining a new vein he had found, land purchased from the 'Sarah's' finds. James' current silent partner is a Mr. Pearson, who prefers to remain in the Front Range and let James work the claim. I have never met the man. _

_Francis fell in love with Henry while they were working the mine. According to James, he was suspicious, but never sure there was a connection between the two until it became apparent. He speaks of his sister often. She was young, vivacious, uneducated, independent and assured. She loved life and the mountains suited her perfectly. She'd grown up in them, after all. And then, suddenly, there was Henry. _

_By James' accounts, she pursued Henry, and the flirting drove Henry mad, but I wonder if these comments are for my benefit. No matter. The end result of their involvement was John, who I love dearly. _

_Francis was with child by Henry when the 'Sarah' became lucrative and he left for Colorado City, never to return. James said that she refused to tell Henry of the child and forbade him to as well. It was a difficult childbirth, one that she did not survive. James buried her here, on this claim, his new one, and broke his connection with Henry at her request. He said that she knew Henry didn't love her and never had, and that he'd always been honest with her. She wouldn't let James interfere. When he asked why, she told him that the name of the mine that Henry had chosen, 'Sarah', was all she needed to know. And so, she trusted him to raise her child. James kept his promise. In an odd way, perhaps by fate, I am here to do so as well. _

_Since I have learned this history, I truly despise Henry's chosen name of the mine and also my own._

_I wish Henry had known of the child. He would value his son, no matter his legitimacy. John is a wonderful boy, and is growing into a sensible, strong man. I wish I could be here longer to see him become a man._

_I often sit by Francis' grave, telling her of John, and what a fine young man he is growing to be. I wish I had met her. But I will soon enough. We will both end our days on this mountain pass, in this valley, together, keeping each other company. It is fitting. _

_In truth, I do not know why James has kept my secret and let me remain with him and with John. I am certain that he agreed to take me with them to the mountains because of his hate of Henry and a desire to revenge his sister. Perhaps he saw his actions as an eye for an eye. I will never be sure of this; he has never, and will never admit this. Even so, we have come to be comfortable together. He is a fine man and I regret only that I must leave him._

_There is one last thing I wish I to do; and that is to reconcile James and Henry, and for Henry to know of John. Henry would never have abandoned Francis and his child had he known about the boy. I know this as surely as I know I am dying. Had they disclosed that Henry had a son, all of our lives would have been changed. Francis and James have wronged Henry as greatly as I have failed him. _

_May God forgive us all._

_Sarah Marie Hayes'"_

Sam looked up at the group. "It ends there."

Daniel broke in. "Nothing else?"

"No, I --- wait. There is; just not in her handwriting."

"What does it say, Carter?"

" '_Sarah Marie Hayes_

_May 1, 1868._

_October 19, 1899. _

_I will take him to Henry someday. This I swear. I loved you. I never said. _

_God be with you._

_James. '" _

"Oh, hell." Sam swallowed. "He read the diary."

TBC...


	31. Chapter 31

31. (Sam)

A/N at end..

--------

Sam put the book back on her lap, and Shroedinger jumped up on top of it. She petted him absentmindedly, her thoughts on Sarah Hayes' story. "She died nine days after she wrote this, in fact, exactly 100 years ago today."

She looked at Daniel and then at the Colonel. "What a sad story."

Daniel swallowed. "Yeah. She had a pretty rough life."

"Not just her – all of them."

"Carter? Hayes hardly strikes me as the sympathetic type."

She looked up, petting the cat, thinking. "Well, he was. They all were. Sarah lost two children and never recovered from that, but part of that was because she thought she had failed Hayes. By her own admission, she never talked to him about it or tried to live in the day. She was looking for validation, for something more, even though she had success, wealth, a family and a husband who apparently loved her. In the end, she ran away; she just gave up. And Hayes was the same. Wealth, fame, Sarah, nothing was enough. He was always searching for more, something beyond what he had. He'd clearly been taught that from childhood and never broke free. In the end, he lost everything."

Daniel cleared his throat. "Sam, I'm pretty sure that Sarah Hayes has all the signs of postpartum depression. She wasn't thinking clearly."

She grimaced. "Yeah, I think you're right. It's incredibly sad; if she were alive today they probably could have helped her with medication and counseling. But they didn't know enough then." She picked up whiskey. "And maybe it wouldn't have changed anything, Daniel. She'd already started down the same path as Henry, expecting some sort of 'perfect' life, long before that. They were never able to appreciate what they did have. It destroyed them both."

She paused, thinking. "Rutherford got caught up in their story. He was a pawn in the wrong place at the wrong time. Still, he added to the tragedy." She glanced at Daniel. "Do you think he kept his word and tried to talk to Hayes?"

Daniel shrugged. "Hard to know. As I said before, Hayes spent all of his time up in Cripple Back after Sarah left. It was a boom-town; hundreds lived there and worked the 'Sarah'. Then at the start of the War, Hayes shut down the operation and disappeared until 1918, when he finally showed up again in Colorado Springs and started the speakeasy. He killed Rutherford and Pearson in a brawl downstairs in 1921."

"What do you think happened to Rutherford and John after they buried Sarah at the mine?"

"I don't know, Sam. There's a 'James Rutherford' in the old personnel rosters of Cripple Bank, but I don't know for sure it was him. Whoever it was appears in spring of 1900 and disappears in 1905. There's no evidence of a John Rutherford at all until he enlisted in 1913 and served throughout the War. John came back to Colorado City after, and rented Hayes House after Hayes died. He bought it off of Hayes' heirs in '45 and died here in 1970. That's as much as I know. We may never really know what happened between James and John Rutherford and Hayes."

The Colonel shifted his position on the couch and looked toward the entrance way. "You might as well come in, Lanford. As Daniel said, that's all we know."

Sam started, staring at the doorway. "Where –"

Henry Lanford walked into the room, rubbing his hands. He stared at the Colonel. "I didn't think you saw me."

The Colonel shrugged and gestured for Lanford to sit down, his tone gentle as he continued. "Tell Henry we found her. I'm sorry we couldn't bring her down from the mountain, but we might be able to get back there this winter once the storm goes through. I expect he'd want her buried with him in the Springs."

Lanford looked down at his hands, mumbling to himself and then looked back at the Colonel. "Sounds like she wants to stay there with Francis."

The Colonel replied. "It's BLM land, Henry. We'll have to check with the agency to see if it's possible."

Daniel looked away, considering. "Hayes, Rachel, the baby, James Rutherford and even John are all buried in the Springs Cemetery. Maybe it's time they were all together again, Francis included."

Lanford sighed. "Maybe you're right."

Lanford pulled a set of papers from his jacket and handed them to her. "These rightly belong to you now, ma'am. I found them in the attic a couple of years ago. Been carrying them around ever since. I should have given you them before…but…"

She took the packet carefully and then looked at him, questioning. "What are they?"

"Some letters the boy John wrote when he was older, living in the House. I guess he never sent them. Maybe there was no one to send them to by then."

She folded the papers and put them on the side table carefully. "What do they say?"

Lanford stared out through the front room window into the darkness. "It's the rest of the story. James Rutherford did take John to Cripple Bank for five years, but never told Hayes that the man was John's father. I guess no one will ever know why."

He gestured at the packet. "It says there, in John's letter, that James didn't even tell John who his parents were until after the War." He moved his hands, up and down the chair arms, restless. "Jame's promise to Sarah,what he'd written in her diary, his promise to tell Hayes, must have been eating at him. He finally told John who his real parents were that night....the night James and Henry died. In the letters, John said James told him he was going with Pearson to the speakeasy to tell Hayes he was James' father and what happened to Sarah. He asked John to go with, but John didn't want anything to do with it."

The Colonel broke in. "Not surprising. John was what… thirty-one, thirty -two by then and had been through the War. He must have thought the story was from another life, someone else's."

Lanford shook his head. "Maybe. But after what happened at the speakeasy, here, after all of them died, John held himself responsible. He says in the letter that if he had been there, he believed he could have stopped them." He paused, thinking. "I imagine he spent the rest of his life trying to make up for it."

Sam stayed silent; there was nothing to say.

Lanford continued. "John kept Sarah's secret. There's no mention of her in the letters, even though he knew where she'd died. Hayes never knew what happened to Sarah until now." His last comment was made with absolute certainty.

Sam shifted uncomfortably, and he suddenly stared at her. "Do you really think she was sick, ma'am?"

"I do. But I'm not sure anything that they knew at the time could have helped her get well."

The Colonel stood up and walked over to Lanford. "Henry, she's not the only one that was sick."

"I don't know what ---"

"You don't have to keep looking. We found her. Now it's time to take care of yourself."

Lanford grimaced. "I talked to the docs once when I first retired. Didn't help. Hayes kept ---"

"Hayes has his answers. And you retired ten years ago. You had full benefits, a pension. You never took any of it. Just went underground again, just like your black ops days. Disappeared."

The Colonel stared at Lanford. "You were tired. I know what that's like. Major, why did you decide to end up hiding here?"

"Lanford swallowed and shrugged, his hands moving over the chair's sides. "I got decommissioned here. Decided to stay. Thought I'd start a new life. And then I saw a picture of Hayes -- looks a lot like me, you know?"

The Colonel shook his head, his voice calm, and gentle. "Yes, he does. And?"

Lanford swallowed, his movements stilling. "And.. then, I started looking into the house. Exploring. And then, I found the papers. And, then I met Hayes. And I knew I needed to help him."

The Colonel answered. "You did. You have. And now it's time to change. Things have changed. I have a friend who's a doctor at Patterson. He works with PTSD soldiers. He's good. His name is Craig Jemez. Will you let me set up a meeting with him?"

Lanford looked like he was going to disagree, but the Colonel persisted. "We helped Hayes, Henry. It's time to move on." Some sort of silent message passed between them and the Colonel finally continued. "I need you here and the Captain's going to need you in control, if you're going to keep watching her back. You helped Hayes. You helped us. Now let us help you."

The man seemed to crumple into himself and then squared his shoulders. "I guess I can try."

"That's all any of us can do, Major. You'll make it work."

Lanford finally smiled. "Understood, Colonel." He stood, almost focused, as if on a mission. "Let's head out, sir."

The Colonel turned to her. "Carter ---"

"Go, sir. Good luck."

She, Daniel and Teal'c watched silently as the Colonel and Lanford headed out into the night.

Daniel broke the silence. "Uhh…Sam? You want to explain what's going on? I know I've been out of everything that's been happening here because I've been researching your story, and regardless of what I've told Jack, I don't believe in ghosts, but I have to tell you that that guy looked exactly like Henry Hayes."

"You are incorrect, Daniel Jackson."

"T?"

"The individual who has departed with O'Neill is Major Henry Lanford, retired, United States Air Force, Special Operations."

"Okaay.. and you know that because…"

Sam interrupted. "Lanford's been…haunting the property for a while, Daniel. He helped me take out the drug dealers, and then helped us again with the NID. He…talks to Hayes. He's the one that asked the Colonel to find Hayes' wife." She stopped, then started petting the cat and continued. "I think the Colonel feels like we owe him."

Daniel's expression cleared. "So that's why Jack wanted to know about Rutherford and Hayes. He promised Lanford."

"Yeah."

"Well, thank god for that." When Daniel saw her surprised expression, he continued. "Sam, Jack actually **asked** about my research. And then he **listened** to what I had to say. Think about it. That alone was scarier than a dozen ghosts." He glanced at Teal'c. "How did you know what was going on?"

"O'Neill contacted me early this morning before you left for Cripple Bank. He indicated that he expected Major Lanford to …make an appearance when you returned this evening in order to learn what you had found. O'Neill requested that I contact Captain Doctor Craig Jemez at Patterson Air Force Base and arrange accommodation for Major Lanford."

"Huh. Well, at least that sounds like Jack."

Sam poked halfheartedly at the embers in the fireplace, thinking, embracing the silence. Finally she cleared her throat and looked up at them. "So…"

Daniel shifted. "Yeah. I guess that's that."

She thought about the Hayes family, how much they'd lost by failing to understand what they did have. She looked up at Teal'c and Daniel, part of her family now, although not by normal standards. But if she'd learned anything in the last two weeks, it was that "normal" didn't matter. There was no perfect situation. The bonds she'd seen that existed and she had now built with members of the SGC were as strong, stronger, than any dictated by blood. Her thought drifted towards the Colonel, but she turned them aside. Maybe she couldn't have everything she hoped for, but what she had was enough. It was time to appreciate that.

"Hey.. uhh.. you guys want to stay?"

"Sam?"

She shrugged, slightly embarrassed. "I mean, you can have my car if you want to go back to the base. But it's pretty late, and it's still snowing, and I do have guest rooms upstairs. We could do something; I don't know, maybe watch a movie or…"

Teal'c replied, his voice serene but somehow knowing. "I have yet to see the second film of the Star Wars trilogy. I believe there is a copy in your collection in the study."

She grinned. "Star Wars it is."

Daniel grinned back at her. "Sounds like a plan. You got any popcorn? I'm still starving. We really have to stop letting Jack pick the pizza."

"Indeed."

As they gathered up the pizza boxes and plates, Daniel added, hopefully, "And on another important point, do you think Jack's finally done with the quotes now that we might be done with ghosts? I mean, I suppose I can get used to him listening to me, if I have to, but if he's going to keep quoting Shakespeare accurately by play, scene and act, I'm not sure I can ---"

Teal'c interrupted. "I have found O'Neill's methods to be unorthodox and yet successful. The NID has been neutralized and the drug dealers confined by local authorities. Captain Carter's home has been successfully renovated, Major Lanford is receiving appropriate care, and Henry Hayes' wife has been found. In addition, Captain Carter and many members of the SGC have had the opportunity to become acquainted with each other and with members of the Colorado Springs community. I believe these were his objectives. He has succeeded. Whether or not he continues to engage in repeating statements originally made by bards of your world, even if only to annoy you, is of little import."

Daniel objected. "Actually, this whole business started because Jack ordered Sam to get a life."

Teal'c looked at her. "Have you not done so, Captain Carter?"

Sam grinned. "I have. And more." She turned back to Daniel. "Besides, you know what they say…"

"What's that?"

She grinned. " ' All's well that ends well.' . She ducked, smiling, as he threw the pillow from the couch at her as she headed to the kitchen.

TBC...

A/N. Nope, we're not done. One more chapter to go, but it's long enough that I'm going to turn it into two to make it easier to read... Plus, I really do need to edit the last one... yeah. Thanks so much for reading and reviewing.


	32. Chapter 32

32. (Sam)

Additional A/N at end of chapter. Here, I want to thank Bristow1941 and NiciMac for helping me with this chapter of the story, and in fact the direction of all of the story. More on their help at the end; I don't want to spoil this chapter... ( she ducks.. grinning) OK, and I should also mention that Jack's costume in this part of the tale, if you haven't followed RDA's work or don't live in the US is a dig. It's explained in the A/N at the end. Thanks to all for reading and writing to tell me your thoughts! It's been really fun.

------------------

Sam flounced the sides of her ankle length skirt and wiped her hands on the apron she'd put over the velvet in order to avoid damaging it. She grimaced. The costume was a complete pain; it had been severely constricting her movements all night. Then she grinned, remembering. Of course, in the end it had been worth it. The party had been amazing.

She looked around her at her kitchen. Although it had been a complete disaster mere hours ago, the SGC had come through with its usual panache and now all of the surfaces were spotless and the food stored away. The countertops gleamed, and the cherry cabinets and floors reflected the warmth of the fire burning in the fireplace.

The table that "ate New York" was settled in; it looked like it had always been in the center of the room ready for action. She smiled to herself. On the other hand, the Colonel's wine cooler looked exhausted. Of course, it had had quite the workout that night. The Colonel was right. You couldn't throw an SGC party without a wine cooler. Gets the beer and the wine out of the fridge.

If someone had told her three months ago that she was going to throw a Halloween party for all of the SGC and their families, she would have told them they were nuts, which just went to show how you can never predict the future. Had someone told her that she was also going to invite the Colorado Springs police chief and his officers, the city planner, Griff, his crew and the rest of the Colonel's poker buddies, she would have had them certified immediately.

And yet, here she was. Even Rodger had closed the restaurant in Denver in order to enjoy the fun. Of course, once there, she couldn't keep him out of the kitchen. Consequently, the food had been amazing.

She grinned, remembering. The Colonel had insisted on a costume party. All of the adults had been required to wear period costumes from the days when Hayes owned the house. It had been eerily appropriate; for one night the house had come to life again as it had been a hundred years ago. There were prospectors, cowboys, saloon girls, bankers, teachers, miners and more.

Daniel had taken the Colonel's idea one step further, along with the County librarian, and provided biographies of members of the 1890 Colorado City community for anyone who wanted to act the part. Most of the SGC had taken him up on the offer. All night long she'd heard snippets of conversation that easily could have happened when Hayes was alive. And the idea had been a brilliant icebreaker between the community members and SGC staff. The groups had interacted as if they'd known each other for years.

She smiled. The Colonel's dress code hadn't extended to the kids; he thought they should be able to dress up whatever way they wanted. Consequently, there had been miniature ghosts, goblins, witches and even Batman running through the house. Somehow, that made the evening pretty much perfect.

The SGC's creativity had really shown through when it came to the kids. They'd taken to planning a haunted house for the kids like ducks to water. The "Terrifying Trail" started outside the house, with ghosts rising out of her crypt to offer candy, miners disappearing into the mists, and monsters hiding in the trees. It led down through the tunnel, lit dimly by old mining lanterns, with bats on the ceiling and other creatures popping out of the walls. The kids had to push through the tunnel door, which groaned in a way it never actually had, into the hidden room, where witches and ghosts and monsters and cauldrons of dry iced punch and, as Cassandra had said gleefully, "really really icky treats" were loaded on tables.

The SGC crew had left the door from the room into the house open, although covered by a thick black curtain. The basement, Hayes' old speakeasy, had been set up as an 1890s saloon; the mahogany bar gleaming, tables for poker and card games prepared, and a dance floor ready for use. It had been honestly amazing.

And thinking of amazing, the Colonel had shown up early to help her with preparations, and had taken her breath away. He'd dressed as a western Victorian gentleman, and his casual elegance and relaxed demeanor made her feel almost as if she had been sent back in time. He literally looked like he had been born to the part.

She grinned, remembering the conversation.

"Carter, where are you?" His voice came booming through the house. He'd left an hour earlier to get ready for the party.

"Kitchen, sir." She turned as he entered. "I --- wow."

He smiled, his eyes twinkling. "Carter, you look great. That dress is the exact color of your eyes."

She grinned and curtsied. "Thank you, sir." She looked him up and down, carefully. "You look pretty fine yourself."

He grinned. "Well, thank you, ma'am." He looked back at her questioningly, suddenly seeing something in her expression. "What?"

She swallowed, coughing to hide her laughter. "Well, sir, what's with the ----?" She gestured towards what had to be the biggest fake mustache she'd ever seen.

"Teal'c's idea. You know, I think he has a thing about hair." He smoothed the mustache down. "No?"

She cringed. "Uh, no, sir. Sorry."

Instead of looking deflated, he looked delighted. "Thank god." He ripped the fake mustache off, wincing. "I owe you one, Carter."

"Yeah?"

"Oh yeah. Do you have any idea how itchy that damned thing is? Not to mention that it had the potential to seriously hinder any 'eat, drink and be merry' on my part."

She grinned. "Glad to be of help, sir. Who are you supposed to be?"

He bowed. "Nickolodean -- uh, Legend, I think it was, now minus a mustache. I'll have to ask Daniel the name again. Evidently, the guy's a writer, or something."

Her mind boggled at the idea of Daniel assigning the part of a writer to the Colonel. "A writer?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, I thought it was weird, too. But Daniel says he's not a literary type. Wrote dime novels, kind of like the Simpson's of the time, Nick-at Nite stuff."

"Ah." Well, that did explain a lot. She paused, thinking. "Nickolodean's a kids tv channel, sir."

He shrugged. "Whatever. At least the guy had a preference for poker and whiskey. I thought that part worked."

She laughed. "Yep, that fits. Looks like you're ready for prime time, Colonel."

He smiled. "Nah. More likely they'd cancel half-way through the season." He grinned again. "On the other hand, I could really get used to you in that outfit."

He gestured towards her dress, and then backed away when he saw the look in her eyes and coughed. "Or not. Uhh… I'm going to check on the decorations downstairs."

"You do that, sir."

"Yeah. Going now."

"Good idea."

He headed down the stairs.

The evening had been fun, actually pretty hilarious, because for some reason, the Colonel had decided to designate himself as her personal emcee, commenting on everyone's costume as they arrived.

"Who the hell knew that there were archaeologists in the west in 1890?"

She grinned. "I expect Daniel did, sir."

"Yeah, well, he should not have been allowed to pick out his own costume. It's just – wrong."

"Why? What did he---oh." She turned and located Daniel in the crowd. He was dressed as a half cowboy, half archaeologist. "Sorry, sir."

He stared at her suspiciously. "Did you know about this?"

"Totally innocent. Why? Who's he pretending to be?"

"Some guy named Richard Wetherill. Evidently, Weatherman was a cowboy turned archaeologist who lived in Colorado canyon country and dug up… lots and lots of bones. I managed to miss most of the lecture, but they were from an early people who lived here called the Anasazi."

"Ouch."

"Yeah. Daniel has researched the story **extensively**."

"Sorry, sir."

He grumped. "Do either of you understand the term downtime?" She started to defend herself, but he stopped her by raising his hand. "Daniel says that the term 'Anasazi' isn't P.C. anymore. The **correct** term is the 'Ancients' or 'Ancient Enemy'."

She stared at him, slightly shocked. "You have to be kidding."

"Would I kid about a thing like that?"

"No."

"Yeah." He took a drink of beer and then continued looking around the room, brightening when he saw Teal'c. "Now that is a cowboy."

She grinned. "Quite the hat."

The Colonel looked outraged. "That, Carter, is a Stetson. It is **not** a hat."

"I stand corrected."

He smiled. "You know, Kazinski has been giving Teal'c the evil eye. I think he has visions of a stand off at high noon."

She laughed. "More likely, he wants to recruit Teal'c to the Springs Police Force." She refilled the empty bowl of chips he'd brought into the kitchen and watched, amused, as he rambled off and then introduced Teal'c to Kazinski. From the looks of it, the two men hit it off immediately.

It couldn't have been more than fifteen minutes later when the Colonel headed back with more commentary. "You seen Cassie?"

"No, what's she dressed as?"

"Laura Engalls Wilder."

She grinned. "She's been reading all the books. This part of Colorado isn't exactly the prairie, but I guess we have to give her poetic license."

"The kid is amazing, Carter. She has the role completely down pat."

"As good as Daniel?"

The Colonel scowled, and then grinned at her. "Far, far better."

"What's Janet dressed as?"

The Colonel looked at her evilly. "Oh, that I can't describe. You have to see it to believe it." With that, he grabbed her arm and dragged her out of the kitchen and into the living room where Cassie and Janet Fraiser were talking to General Hammond.

"I – uh…Wow." Janet looked absolutely amazing, dressed as a saloon girl in a red and black corset that had more than one of the SGC's single guys looking at her in an entirely new way. And the Doc was definitely playing the role to the hilt.

The Colonel grinned. "Who knew that the Doc was a wild woman?"

Sam stared, still taking in Janet's costume. "I knew Daniel gave her the bio of a saloon girl in Colorado City, but I had no idea they'd come up with something so … creative."

The Colonel glanced around, amused. "Well, I suspect the infirmary's going to be a busy place for a while, until most of these guys," he gestured at a group of SGC personnel, "recall that the Doc's really good with needles."

She grinned. " Janet can take care of herself." She smiled. "In fact, I think she'll be amused by the whole thing."

"Yeah." The Colonel glanced at her, a teasing note creeping into his voice. "So, Carter, ever think about taking a turn at being a saloon …uh… woman?"

"Actually, yes. I was going to be one tonight, but Daniel talked me out of it."

"He did what? Why?"

"Well, he said that as the proprietor of this fine establishment, I needed to dress respectably. Apparently, the madams of the time made sure that everyone knew they were businesswomen by dressing accordingly."

"Uhuh. He is so dead."

"What?"

"Never mind, Carter. Daniel loves messing with my mind, that's all. C'mon, let's go see what Hammond and the Doc are up to."

"Who's Hammond supposed to be?"

"The mayor of Colorado City, the honorable Carleton Gates. After two terms, he lost the election in 1890 due to graft. Evidently, when he sold his shares in the local bordello," he looked around him, grinning, "the locals weren't pleased."

She grinned. "Shame."

She finally asked the question that had been on her mind most of the evening. "Has Henry Lanford shown up?"

The Colonel smiled a full-blown smile, his eyes crinkling. "Yeah. He's talking to Daniel. He's dressed as Henry Hayes in his mining days."

She sighed. "Oh, man, I hope ---"

"Carter, it's all right. He's fine. Jemez says his progress is amazing."

The doctor at the Veteran's Administration that the Colonel had convinced to take on Lanford's case had said that Lanford had been misdiagnosed the first time around. He'd consequently changed Lanford's medication and the results had been dramatic. The last time she'd seen the Major, when she'd visited him at the VA, he'd been lucid and attentive.

It was typical of the Colonel, now that she understood him, that he'd followed through to make sure Lanford was all right. It was also typical of the Colonel that he'd gone one better.

She glanced out the window at the house next door to hers that had been owned by the drug dealers. By the time it had gone up for public auction, the Colonel had convinced the VA, Hammond, and the Colorado Springs community leaders that it was the perfect location for a VA satellite community center, particularly serving members of the SGC and their families. So, the Air Force had acquired the property. In fact, it was being renovated now. Another one of the Colonel's ideas was to hire Lanford on as a caretaker of the property if he became well enough.

She smiled. Apparently the Colonel had been serious when he told Lanford he wanted the man to watch her back. She shrugged. She could hardly complain; it was a solution that worked for the VA, families of the SGC staff, and Lanford. And for her. With Lanford and so many military around regularly, the NID was going to find it impossible to try to get into her place again. And that really was the best they could do right now to bring the rest of the group down. At least the Colonel's plan had resulted in sending most of the rogue agents to ground for a while.

"Carter? You there? You look like you're out in ...no, you usually pay more attention there. Right now, you're just somewhere else."

"Sorry. Just thinking about Henry. I really hope he's all right."

"Well, then, let's go talk to him. You can see for yourself."

They had and after some conversation, she had to agree with the Colonel. Major Lanford was going to be fine.

The rest of the evening had followed the same pattern. Every time she started working in the kitchen the Colonel tracked her down, helped for a while and then dragged her off to some new sight. She thought about that. He'd been right. As hostess, she needed to be moving around, talking to folks, and because of him, she had been. Besides, Rodger had been in his element in the kitchen. She'd only been getting in the way. And so, she'd had a wonderful time. They all had.

She grinned at the memory, turned off the lights in the kitchen and then blew out the last of the jack-o-lanterns perched throughout the room. The fire in the fireplace was nearly out, the last embers crackling, sending out an orange-red glow. She glanced at her watch. Midnight. Only the Colonel was left now, downstairs locking up. He should be back any minute.

She shivered. It was suddenly cold in the room.

She turned, quickly, somehow expecting to see someone come through the door. But the door to the outside was closed, locked and there was no one…

...except there was someone, there in the shadow.

"Hello?" She stared at the shape, still in darkness. It looked like Henry Lanford, dressed in Hayes mining clothes, but there was something … off. Somehow, Lanford looked too perfect, too real.

"Henry? Is everything ok?"

Nothing.

"Major Lanford?"

The person in the shadow gazed at her silently, as if he was waiting for something.

She swallowed and asked the impossible. "Mr. Hayes?"

The vision bowed and then raised his hand in farewell. Suddenly, he was gone.

Sam stared into empty space. It was not possible. It was absolutely not possible. The Colonel was right; there was no such thing as ghosts, but…

"Captain Carter?"

She nearly jumped out of her skin as she turned quickly, seeing the real Henry Lanford standing behind her.

"You saw him, didn't you, ma'am."

"I—hell, I don't know what I saw, Henry."

He walked into the kitchen, following her gaze. "It was Hayes, Captain. He told me he wanted to thank you and the Colonel for finding his wife. I wasn't sure when he was going to get around to it."

He stared into the shadows. "He's gone now. I don't think he'll be back." He swallowed and then continued. "The guy was literally driving me nuts, but in a way, I am going to miss him."

"Henry, he wasn't here. It's not possible." She scanned the area again, looking for any sort of rational explanation. There. The window. She gestured towards it. "I just saw your reflection. It surprised me."

He looked at her knowingly, as if to argue and then clearly changed his mind. He shrugged. "Whatever you say, Captain."

"I – yeah. It was just your reflection."

"Yes, ma'am."

She swallowed and turned away from the window, rubbing her arms to chase away the chill. "Is there something you wanted?"

He cocked his head. "Wanted to thank you for the invitation and the fine evening, Captain. We're secure downstairs. The Colonel asked me to tell you he'll be up shortly."

"Thanks. I was glad you could come."

"Captain, I also want to thank you for the opportunity for myself and for helping Hayes. I won't let you down."

She smiled. "I know you won't. And I appreciate your being willing to keep an eye on the place. But it was General Hammond and the Colonel who organized everything. They're the ones you should thank."

"Already did, ma'am." He looked away. "If there's nothing else that needs doing, I'll head out. Dr. Jackson said he'd give me a ride back to the VA." He grinned to himself. "Have a good rest of the evening, ma'am. I hope you enjoy it."

"Sleep well, Henry." She watched as he headed out the back door, securing it when he left. She rubbed her arms again, thinking. It had to have been his reflection. It'd been a long night after all, and with all the costumes, it wasn't surprising that she was imagining things. It had just been his reflection.

Yeah, right.

"Carter?"

She nearly jumped out of her skin again. Damn. That was getting to be a habit.

"What's wrong? You look like you've just seen a ghost." The Colonel grinned, pleased at his joke. He did a double-take when he saw her expression. "Whoah. Sorry. Clearly not funny."

"No."

He grimaced. "Long night?"

She shrugged away the last few minutes and focused on the man in front of her. She smiled. "It was a wonderful night. I guess I'm still wired from all of the action."

"Well, I have the perfect solution for that. C'mon. Everyone's gone. The place is cleaned up. And a night cap is ready and waiting for both of us downstairs in the saloon."

She followed him down the stairs, and stopped, suddenly grinning. All of the jack-o-lanterns and Halloween candles were focused around the mahogany bar, creating a warm, inviting atmosphere.

"Nice. I think Hayes would approve."

The Colonel rolled his eyes. He walked behind the bar, pulled out a bottle of champagne and popped the cork. He poured them both a glass, his eyes twinkling. "Congratulations on your first successful SGC party, Carter."

His grin infectious, she smiled back and took a drink. "Thanks." She looked across the bar to him. "I really want to thank you for all the—"

He interrupted. "No need. I may have started the ball rolling, but I think Teal'c, Fredrickson, and Reynolds would have shot me if I'd interfered that last week."

She took a sip of champagne, remembering. "I still can't believe how much they accomplished. Not just the kitchen --but the living room, dining room --- they finished all of it, the whole first floor, not to mention what they accomplished down here." She glanced around the room, in awe of the amount of work the SGC had put into her house. It was stunning.

The Colonel shrugged. "I told you that the kitchen would only take about a week, two at most. With all the extra bodies that last week while we were waiting out the NID, it made sense to finish the rest." He paused, thinking. "Good thing Teal'c is on our side. He definitely knows how to marshal the troops."

She grinned. "Hard man to argue with."

He raised his eyebrow, his face deadpan. "Indeed."

She sighed and took a sip of champagne.

"What?"

She tilted her head, trying to smile. "I don't know -- I guess I'm going to miss it all." Mostly, she was going to miss him hanging around the place at all hours now that there was no reason for it any longer. And if Hayes story had taught her anything, it was to live in the moment and appreciate what she did have.

She tried joking. "I never thought buying a house would be quite this much fun."

He smirked. "I *told* you it would be, but you didn't believe me. So, admit it --- you loved discovering gravestones, crypts, secret tunnels, ghosts ---"

She laughed. "Okay, I admit it. I did."

"I will miss the company, though. I'll miss everyone..hanging around the place." She swallowed, trying to keep her tone light, "and I'll miss...you... uhhh... your help." It was as close to the truth as she could go, given what was possible.

Something in her expression must have given her away, though, because the Colonel's eyes turned suddenly dark, searching, and his expression serious.

He grabbed his glass and walked around the bar, settling down next to her on a barstool. She settled in next to him, watching as he picked some imaginary fluff out of his champagne glass.

"You ever watched any soap operas, Carter?"

"What?" The change in topic was jarring, but that, after all, was the Colonel. He went from one topic to another with regularity without anyone following at first. "I -- no. Not really. Haven't had the time. Have you?"

He smirked. "Fraiser's excellence at torture is not limited to needles. When she gets really pissed, she kills the news and sports channels in the infirmary. That leaves day time tv."

"Ah. So..."

"So...just saying that the Hayes story seemed a bit like that to me. Not really real. An 1890's version of a soap. But then, you said something that changed my mind. That the lesson was we should appreciate what we have, when we have it." He took a sip of his champagne, and looked back at her, his eyes serious.

She grimaced. "Yeah. I did."

"I'm not done, Sam. I think you're right; we should, but that's not all to consider. There's also Lanford's story. He left everything far too late; gave up his life, who he was, because he thought he didn't need anyone, ever, only the job. He's a good man, but he couldn't get out of the trap."

"You helped him out of that. He'll be all right."

"Yeah. I think he'll be ok. But he spent a decade lost. That's a lot for anyone to pay."

She stared. "It is."

He swirled his champagne glass, and finally continued. "Reynolds mentioned something interesting a while ago to me. Said nothing's permanent in the military. Things change."

She took a sip of champagne, refusing to look at him. "He was right."

"He was." She finally glanced up again at him when he ran his hand lightly over her own, ignoring the shivers that suddenly ran down her spine and then turned her palm deliberately to his.

"Sam, he wasn't speaking in general. At the time, he was referring to the fact that tours of duty are routinely renegotiated every three years. I think most of the SGC rosters will need to be looked at next year." He glanced down at his champagne. "I know I'm up for review then, so are you."

He paused. "Not all change is necessarily bad."

She stared at him, her mind racing. He couldn't possibly mean what she thought he did. "I –"

He interrupted. "I'm just…saying. That's what Reynolds said." And then he continued. "It is something to consider."

She thought about all the things she could say. That they were fighting a war, that the Goa'uld were on the doorstep, that they had the obligation to see it through. And then she stopped. He knew it as well, knew the risks, probably better than she did. There was no need to remind him.

But she couldn't let it go, either. "You won't be able to walk away. Neither one of us will." She grimaced, "Hell, they probably won't even let us, anyway."

He stared at her carefully. "They won't have a choice. When the time comes, if you're still up for it, we could re-deal the deck and play a new hand. And if that doesn't work, we up the ante. There are always options. That is, if you want them."

She looked back at the Colonel… no, looked back at …Jack.

"I could do that."

He pulled her hand away from her glass, gently examining her fingers, one by one. "Good to know."

She smiled, and then grabbed his hand, resting hers on top of his, stilling his movements. "You know, I swore that I was going to learn something from the Hayes' story. They never learned to appreciate what they did have, to live each day as it came." She swallowed and then looked back at Jack. "But honestly, right now a year is looking like a really long time."

She thought she'd seen Jack O'Neill in all of his manifestations; Colonel, superior, colleague, mentor, friend, partner… but the look in his eyes and his smile told her that she'd only scratched the surface of learning about him. And what was underneath the veneer was something that took her breath away.

She swallowed again, trying to break the spell he'd suddenly woven around her and yet unwilling to leave its cocoon.

He broke it for her, his smirk lighting up the room for her. "Yep, a year is a really long time, or only a moment. It's all relative, you know."

She smiled, and let him lead. "I had heard that somewhere."

He grabbed her hand firmly in his, solidifying their grasp. "Thought you had. Word does tend to get out." He paused, suddenly serious again. "Sam, I ---"

She stopped him simply by moving her other hand along his mouth, savoring the feel of his lips under her hands. "It's enough."

His eyes darkened, and he put his own hand on top of hers, then moved hers next to his heart and placed his forehead on top of hers.

She could feel his grin; it was a moment she thought she'd always remember.

She swallowed and then grabbed her champagne when he finally moved away. "You know, Sam, that relative time thing… a year isn't so long."

She glanced up at him. "No?"

He smiled. "Nope. There's a lot to do. Right here at your place."

"Like what?"

"I figure there's at least a years worth of remodel projects on the horizon. First, you've got to have a master bedroom suite."

"I do?"

"Of course. You can't have a house this size without a Jacuzzi and a steam shower."

"In a Victorian?"

"Architectural license, Carter. Trust me. Not having a steam shower is just… wrong."

"Of course it is."

"And while we're at it, you need two more baths on the second floor."

"Because?"

"Because the one that's up there currently will be part of the master bedroom suite. You have three other bedrooms on the second floor. You need a bath for the guest room, and then one for the other two rooms."

"Of course I do."

"And then, there's the landscaping. We did prune the bushes, but you need to put in the watering system and add a few more trees for background. While you're at it, you may as well put in a white picket fence."

She stared at him, suddenly speechless. There was absolutely no way he could know about her fantasies about a white picket fence. No way in hell.

He looked concerned. "What? You have a thing against white picket fences?"

"Ah, no. No not at all. They're fine. More than fine. A white picket fence would be great."

"Good. Personally, I think you should put that in right after we finish the master bedroom suite. No need to wait until the rest of the landscaping's in. Then you can get a dog."

She looked up at that. "I don't want a dog."

"Maybe not, but I do."

"Oh." She smiled, the future suddenly bright and clear. "Right. Master bedroom suite, white picket fence and then dog. I think I have it."

"Good to know, Carter. And not one of those sappy lap dogs. I'm talking a real dog, lab, German Shepard, you know, a **big** dog. Just so we're clear."

"Got it."

The smile he sent her literally took her breath away. He finally broke the moment, and looked down into his champagne, taking a sip. From his grin, she could tell he clearly wasn't done yet.

"Now, as far as parties go, I would classify the Halloween bash you just gave as a distinct success. But you have to follow up; the SGC will expect more than a one-time deal. There's Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year's…"

"You can't be serious."

"Of course I am."

She sighed, thinking it over. "Of course you are. Don't forget Valentine's Day, St Patrick's Day, the Fourth of July, and …"

"Exactly, Carter. Now you're getting the hang of it."

"Does this include your monthly poker games?"

He grinned. "Well, now that you mention it, the saloon really is the perfect location. Not that I'd ask, of course."

"Of course not."

"And –" He stopped suddenly, staring at something behind her to his left.

"Jack?"

She tried again. "Is something wrong?"

"No – I – Sam, did you see that?"

"See what?" She turned and looked. There was nothing behind her.

He cocked his head, still staring. "I could have sworn…you're sure you can't see that?"

"I -- no." She stared into the darkness, suddenly tense, reacting to the Colonel's motions. But there was nothing.

"Lanford did leave with Daniel, right?"

"Yes. About an hour ago."

"Huh."

He shook his head, as if to clear it, and then started blowing out the jack-o-lanterns. Then he grabbed the champagne. "Let's finish this upstairs. It's late and Hammond will have both of our hides tomorrow if we're not on time, party or no party. Besides, Schroedinger is probably pissed about being stuck in the bedroom all night."

"Sounds good to me." She helped him blow out the rest of the lanterns and started heading up the stairs. "You know, for someone who doesn't like cats, you worry about mine enough for both of us."

"First line of defense. Make friends with the locals."

"Ah." She grinned. "I thought your usual plan was shoot first and ask questions later."

"Smart ass." He paused, suddenly silent.

"Carter?"

"Yes?" She turned and stopped on the stair, looking down. Jack was still gazing into the dark of the room.

"So, after all of this…do you honestly believe in ghosts?"

"No question about it."

He grinned up at her. "That's what I thought you'd say." Then he turned around, looking back down into the cellar.

"Night, Henry."

She laughed as she heard him latch the door.

End

Additional A/N. Well, there you have it. The end of GAL. I do hope you enjoyed the tale. Again, I want to thank NiciMac for putting up with reviewing numerous, numerous, numerous renditions of this tale and patiently explaining when I was losing it...as in characterizations, plot, sanity, etc. grin. A truly wonderful woman!!! I also want to thank Bristow1941 for patiently explaining that, if she didn't, someone else would probably shoot me, as Jack would say, if I ended the tale the way I was going to originally--- which was for Sam to sell the House, as they couldn't trust the NID. She also came up with the idea to do something about Henry as a caretaker and being a caretaker. Thank you both very much!!And yeah, they both would have done something evil if we didn't have some sort of carefully quiet but happy resolution. So, they rock, very much.. grin...

Thanks to all of you for reading, reviewing, and taking time to look at the tale. I do hope you enjoyed it. It was a lot of fun to write. If I have not responded to reviews or missed any, I apologize. I think I may have in the year I was distracted. My thanks for writing then and my apologies now.

Take care,

Sam938

FYI.. After MacGyver, RDA had a brief series where he played Nicodemuous Legend, a dime novel writer, who drank a lot and played poker. The tale was set in the 1870s in the West. It lasted half a season; it was really fun to watch. Yep, had a huge mustache. Nicolodean is a kid's tv channel in the US and Nick-at-Nite is another that plays old classic reruns...


End file.
